A POW's Best Friend
by Sgt. Moffitt
Summary: There was more than one underground at work in Germany...Winner of the 2013 Papa Bear Award for Best Story.
1. A resolution

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>The humble cottage kitchen was quiet, except for the crackling of a small fire in the woodstove. The elderly man seated at the table cleared his throat, and the woman standing by the woodstove turned to cast a sharp glance at him. She made a show of putting the teakettle on the top of the stove, and then looked over her shoulder at the half-grown German shepherd shivering on the flagged stone floor.<p>

"You found another waif, Oskar?" she asked.

"_Ja."_ The man bending over the dog straightened. "But this one is different, Maria."

"Is it?" Maria walked over to them and peered at the young dog, who was still gawky in his adolescence. "So many pets were left behind by our friends and neighbors, ever since _Kristallnacht._ But that was some time ago. Where did you find this one?"

The man's voice hardened. "I was called in to treat one of the dogs at the training school for _die Diensthunde _near Frankfurt."

Maria said quietly, "Frankfurt? That's a long drive."

"_Ja. _But I wanted to get a look at the place. I needed to know what is going on."

The elderly man at the table spoke up. "You gave up breeding dogs when you saw which way the wind was blowing, boy. What can you do about it now?"

Oskar shook his grizzled head. "I do not know yet. But I must do something. The dogs at the training school—they are being trained as killers, Father."

The elderly man looked down at his trembling hands as he tried to fill his pipe, and said nothing. Maria stepped back from the dog in alarm.

"You have brought a killer into our house?"

"No, no_," _Oskar assured her. "I brought him home to treat his torn paw, but his handlers are not pleased with his performance so far; they told me to destroy him if his paw will not fully heal. Apparently he is not properly obedient, and is aggressive toward his handlers. They do not want to spend excessive time training a dog who will not react as they wish."

He crouched down again beside the dog and looked him over with a gentle thoroughness. The dog held himself very still, allowing the expert hands to feel his joints and then carefully lift the affected paw.

"He is thin; too thin," the man murmured. "Perhaps the injured paw put him off his feed. Or perhaps he is still grieving."

"Grieving, Oskar?" Curious, Maria approached the dog again.

"_Ja_. He was found in an empty house by the local police. The occupants of the house had been taken away by the Gestapo: a man, his wife, and a child. When the policeman realized that he was a purebred German shepherd, he took him to the training school."

The dog looked up at him, and although Oskar did not know it, there were tears in the creature's eyes.

Casting her fear aside, Maria knelt by the dog and put her arms around his neck. "Oh, the poor boy, to have his family taken away! We must not let him go back to the training school."

"We won't," said Oskar. "How sad it is that his paw will never heal properly, and that I will have to destroy him."

The dog looked at him sharply, but realized that the man's tone belied his words.

The elderly man cackled. "Well done, boy! But what do you really plan to do with this fellow?"

Oskar rubbed his chin. "They are building a camp near Hammelburg, a prisoner of war camp, it is said. It is going to be very large, and a smaller satellite camp is to be built nearby. I think perhaps this smaller camp will be needing guard dogs."

Maria protested, eyeing her husband with doubt. "But, Oskar..."

"Very special guard dogs, Maria."

The elderly man nodded. "Good idea, Oskar. I know that you were looking for a way to take part in the Resistance."

Maria turned on him. "Hush, Father! Do you want the Gestapo to find us too?"

The old man's eyes gleamed, but he subsided into silence.

Oskar smiled with grim satisfaction. "_Ja, _perhaps we can rescue a few more like this one. And I think I will be getting back into the dog-breeding business. What do you think, Maria?"

Maria sighed, accepting the inevitable. "I think perhaps we are all mad. But what do you want me to do for this one's paw?"

"Warm soaks twice a day for a week should take care of it; it is only a minor infection."

His wife stroked the young dog's head and looked into the sad brown eyes. "What is his name, Oskar?"

"His call name is Wolf."

"Wolf?" Maria wrinkled her nose. "No. I will call him Wolfgang; it sounds friendlier."

Wolfgang approved of this; it wasn't the name his boy had given him, but at least it was given with care and concern. He licked Maria's cheek and was rewarded with a delighted laugh. Then he looked up into Oskar Schnitzer's kind face and he resolved that whatever this man wanted him to do, he would do. Whatever this Resistance was, he would do his part.

But he would never forget the family he had lost.


	2. In the stable

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

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><p>It had been a long day going round the farms, and Oskar was very glad to finally be home. He opened the kitchen door to his cottage, allowing Wolfgang to bound in ahead of him.<p>

He was greeted by his wife, who seemed a trifle flustered.

"Oh, _L__iebling, _I am so sorry, on this evening of all evenings! But Kurt has called, and he wants you to come help him with a calving."

Oskar's bushy eyebrows went up. "Kurt? He's almost as good at the business as I am; I trained him myself. Is the cow having trouble, then?"

"I am not sure." Maria hesitated. "But it is Else."

"_Ach_, he probably worries too much. But I had better go."

"Eat something first," Maria urged.

Oskar smiled and shrugged, and sat down at the kitchen table. He dug into the bowl of stew Maria had prepared and munched thoughtfully. "Where is Father, Maria?"

"In the kennels, seeing to the dogs, and preparing more room as you planned." She poured tea into his cup.

The vet nodded. "Good. I am going to see Weimer in Schweinfurt next week about picking up a couple of dogs." He finished his meal in a hurry and got up from the table. "On our way again, Wolfgang. A lady awaits."

Wolfgang, who had been sitting patiently near the door, got to his feet and gave a muted bark.

"It's as though he knew you were going right out again," Maria said. "And I could swear he's trying to say something."

Oskar looked at Wolfgang, who looked back at him expectantly. "I believe you are right. Come along, Wolfgang."

* * *

><p>Wolfgang rode in the passenger seat of the truck that Schnitzer used for his rounds as a country veterinarian, as had become his custom over the past few months. Other dogs had come to live in the Schnitzer kennels, but Wolfgang was the only dog who accompanied the Doctor on his visits to the farms.<p>

Wolfgang took a certain amount of pride in this, but he felt a sense of responsibility too. The Doctor was assembling his team of dogs for a very important project, and Wolfgang had his own role in this. The Doctor had made the young _Schäferhund_ his confidant during his lonely trips down the twisting lanes of the Bad Kissingen countryside, and Wolfgang always listened intently.

This evening was no different.

"Wolfgang, something's going on. Young Kurt hasn't called me in for a calving in months. I know Else is very important to him - she's his best milker, after all - but she's a Jersey; they usually deliver their calves with no problems. Well, we'll find out soon enough."

"Don't worry, Doc," Wolfgang said, and the Doctor smiled at the dog's half-growl, half-woof.

"Maria's right; you can almost talk."

Wolfgang sighed. Humans were so strange. They expected a fellow to understand everything they said, but they really made no attempt to understand when the dog replied. He pricked his ears up as they approached Kurt's farm.

Tires crunching through the snow, the truck pulled up outside a trim stable. The Doctor climbed out, holding the door to allow Wolfgang to jump to the ground. He paused to get his bag from the back of the truck and the two entered the warmth of the stable.

The Doctor glanced at Wolfgang and the dog took up a position near the door. He understood that the Doctor was concerned that the laboring cow might be alarmed at a canine presence just now.

He sat quietly as Schnitzer made his way to the back of the stable. On either side of him the farm horses stuck their heads out of their stalls to gaze curiously at the newcomer.

"Hallo," Wolfgang said politely.

One of the horses tossed his head. "Don't bother them."

"Bother who?" But Wolfgang's nose had already told him there were other dogs nearby. He got to his feet and wandered over to an apparently empty stall. The door was unlatched and he nosed it open.

A low, frightened growl alerted him and he stepped back, lowering his head slightly.

A female _Schäferhund_, not much older than himself, was inside. She was lying on a blanket in the straw, and it was easy enough to see the cause for her alarm. Four newborn pups were nursing eagerly.

"Excuse me, I am so sorry," said Wolfgang. "I didn't mean to disturb you and your family."

She looked at him for a moment, her head raised from the blanket, then dropped it back down as if exhausted. She closed her eyes and said, "It doesn't matter. The last few days...I have been so frightened."

Wolfgang looked around the snug, warm stall. A pan of fresh water was nearby and the blanket on which she and the pups lay was clean. "It looks as though you are safe and being well cared-for here. "

She sighed. "But this is not my home. The last few days my humans were very anxious; they could no longer afford to feed me, and with the pups coming, they did not know what to do. So my male human brought me to this stable last night when no one was about. Early this morning the man Kurt came in and found me. He helped me when the pups were born, and gave me food and water."

"Kurt is a good man, and I'm glad you were brought to this place. Maybe you can stay here," Wolfgang said, but he had a pretty good idea why the Doctor had been summoned to the farm.

* * *

><p>Oskar eyed the husky young man with exasperation. "It looks as though you managed quite well without me, Kurt." He added grudgingly, "But she's a fine heifer." The two men watched as the newborn made its way on wobbly legs over to her mother, who examined her thoroughly, nostrils twitching.<p>

"Don't be a grouch, Onkel Oskar," Kurt said with a smile. "Yes, I called you under false pretenses. But I had a good reason, you know."

"And that would be?"

"I understand you've been collecting some orphans of the storm lately."

Oskar shrugged. "I have taken in a few dogs, yes. You know why, of course."

"Have there been any actually left on your doorstep?"

"Not yet."

"Well, I have your first foundling. This morning when I opened the stable doors I found a poor young _Hündin_, just about ready to whelp."

"Inside the stable? But..."

Kurt nodded. "Yes, I know. I don't know who left her, but she had a tag attached to her collar: 'My name is Frieda. Please take care of me, and send me to Doctor Schnitzer when I am able.'"

Oskar looked around. "Where is she? And the pups?"

Kurt grinned. "My day for playing midwife, it seems. Four healthy _Schäferhunde; _three boys and a girl. Onkel, I believe word has got around that you have taken up raising dogs again."

Oskar's face clouded. "Not guide dogs for the blind, though. Not like before."

Kurt put his hand on his uncle's shoulder. "I know. Such things will probably not be possible until our country is free again. But people know that whatever you are planning with these dogs, it will be for the good of Germany and for the dogs too. Now, let me introduce you to Frieda."

The two men walked back toward the stable entrance, to find Wolfgang on guard outside of Frieda's stall. He thumped his tail and jerked his head slightly toward the stall.

Kurt laughed. "Tante Maria is right. That _Hund_ can almost talk."

He opened the stall door. Oskar shouldered his way into the space, and knelt down by the small family. He spoke quietly to Frieda, who accepted him immediately. After he completed his examination of the mother and pups, he stroked her head one last time and got to his feet.

"A fine litter, and a healthy young bitch."

"Can you use them?" asked Kurt.

Oskar smiled wryly. "It's sad that we have to think so far ahead, isn't it? But this will be a long struggle, I fear, and the new Luftstalag will probably be around much longer than any of us would wish. Yes, I think I can use them. I certainly wouldn't want them to fall into the hands of the war dog training schools in any case."

Kurt nodded. "I knew they would find a home with you regardless." He paused. "They're beauties, aren't they?"

"_Ja."_

"I'm glad her family saw fit to bring her here." He tilted his head back and looked around him. "To this stable."

"_Ja."_

"_Fröhliche Weihnachten, _Onkel Oskar._"_

"_Fröhliche Weihnachten, _Kurt._"_


	3. A morning in May

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

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><p>It was a lovely mild morning in May. Normally this was Oskar Schnitzer's favorite time of year; the rush of lambing season had eased up, and all of the animals he cared for seemed grateful to be outdoors after months of bitter winter and the uncertain weather of early spring. Today, however, Oskar couldn't appreciate the beauty of the spring countryside, and his thoughts were dark. The events of the last few days were extremely disturbing, and he was still trying to get a grasp of the situation.<p>

On his way to Kurt's farm he decided to take a detour past the old army training grounds near Hammelburg, where a large prisoner of war camp had been established. It did not add to his peace of mind to view the frantic activity going on around the camp; they were anticipating prisoners arriving in great numbers, it appeared.

When Oskar had first learned of the camp months ago, he had wondered why the Reich had determined such a large camp was necessary. And now he knew. Norway and Denmark had been invaded last month, effectively ending what the Americans referred to as the "Phoney War". And in the last few days Holland, Luxembourg and Belgium had fallen. It was very evident that France, with her huge but apparently ineffective army, would be next.

The enormity of the situation almost overwhelmed Oskar. But he gritted his teeth, and reminded himself of what he had set out to do: to make an effort, however small, to support the Allies.

For he knew there was no chance of change from within Germany. Hitler had absolute control of the nation, through his domination of the armed forces, his own elite SS, the Gestapo, the Gauleiter who controlled each region of Germany, and the many fanatical Party members who were more than happy to inform on their neighbors. Overt opposition to the Nazis by ordinary Germans was not an option. Hitler would never be overthrown by the citizens of Germany, no matter how many leaflets were dropped by the RAF exhorting them to do so. The Resistance was there, but the Resistance would need the Allies to succeed.

And this huge camp was not where he, Oskar Schnitzer, could make a difference. He put the truck in gear and moved on. A few miles on the other side of Hammelburg, on a dirt road leading to nowhere and hidden among the trees, was a much smaller camp, designed to hold prisoners of the Luftwaffe.

Oskar had determined that he would help support the captured Allies at this smaller camp by providing dogs to guard them. These dogs would be in fact be protecting the prisoners, and their presence in camp would give him a perfectly legitimate excuse for visiting the camp frequently, to observe how the prisoners were being treated, and hopefully to pick up bits of information he could pass on to the Resistance.

If only he knew who the Resistance members were in Hammelburg! But he would find out eventually, he was certain of it. First things first...he had to get the dogs into camp.

Later this morning Oskar was scheduled to meet with a Colonel Klink at the Luftstalag regarding the dogs. But right now he needed to stop by Kurt's farm to collect his father and take him home, so he drove on past the camp, giving it only a passing glance.

"Take a look, Wolfgang," he told the big dog who was seated with placid dignity on the passenger seat beside him. "Luftstalag 13. Hopefully you'll be working there soon."

Wolfgang, who was well aware of the Doctor's plans, nodded. He was prepared for this. True, he had enjoyed a very pleasant existence for the last few months, living at the Schnitzers' and accompanying the Doctor on his rounds. And he knew his job guarding humans penned up behind barbed wire would not be comfortable or pleasant.

The prisoners would be angry, and frightened, and Wolfgang knew that an angry, frightened human was a dangerous human. But he knew his duty. And, like every dog, he had a distinct advantage over humans. Besides the obvious benefit of superior intelligence, dogs possessed much keener senses, warm winter coats, and the ability to communicate with other living creatures, whereas it was apparent humans had difficulty communicating even with members of their own species.

Dogs were certainly gifted in many ways, Wolfgang reflected. And what did the poor humans have? Opposable thumbs! It hardly seemed fair.

* * *

><p>After a few minutes the truck turned into the lane that led to Kurt Schnitzer's farm. Wolfgang waited eagerly for the Doctor to stop the truck so he could jump out. He was anxious to see Frieda and the pups, and to hear the latest news from a canine perspective.<p>

At last the truck came to a stop in the farmyard, and the Doctor held the door open for Wolfgang. He was out with a bound, and trotted over to the far end of the farmyard, where the puppies were seated in a row.

They were raptly watching the young woman who stood before them. At an almost imperceptible movement of her hand, all four dropped to the ground and put their heads on their front paws. She gestured again, and as one, the pups jumped to their feet and barked.

Wolfgang sat down next to Frieda, who was watching her offspring with justifiable maternal pride.

The pups were fine-looking young _Schäferhunde_, he thought, with sturdy limbs, thick coats, and floppy ears that had not yet achieved the wolf-like pointed appearance typical of their breed. "They're shaping up well," he told Frieda.

"_Ja._" She turned her head to look at him. "I'm glad the Doctor brought you here today. There was news from the Twilight Barking last night."

Wolfgang pricked up his ears. The nightly barking session that enabled dogs to communicate by relay over long distances was often not audible at the Doctor's home, but Frieda and the pups could usually hear it here at Kurt's farm.

"What did you hear?" he asked.

She shook her head sadly. "A Keeshond in Amsterdam started the message, and it was verified by a Schipperke in the Ardennes. The Nazis have invaded Holland, Luxembourg and Belgium. Many refugees are on the roads, and as usual, the animals are left behind to suffer."

"This is very bad." Wolfgang thought of what the farm horses Helmut and Otto had gone through last fall, when they learned that many horses were slaughtered in the gallant but doomed defense of Poland. "Do the kids understand this?"

"I couldn't keep it from them. Besides, it was Sieglinde's sharp hearing that was able to pick up the message last night. They all wanted to rush to Holland and Belgium to help, bless their hearts." Frieda lifted her head. "Look, the lesson's over for now."

The four puppies raced over to the two adult dogs, tumbling over each other.

"Hi, Onkel Wolfgang!" Bruno rolled over in the grass in his excitement.

"Did you see us?" Hans, more restrained than his brother, looked at Wolfgang, his head tilted to one side.

"We worked really hard today!" Gerhardt said earnestly.

"_I _worked hard...you boys were just trying to keep up with me!" Sieglinde nipped his ear and then scampered just out of reach.

Hans wisely ignored his siblings and asked seriously, "Onkel Wolfgang, are you going to be a guard dog soon?"

"Probably," Wolfgang told him.

Hans nodded. "I want to be a guard dog too."

"I don't," whimpered Bruno. "I don't want to bite anybody."

"Nobody's going to bite anybody," Wolfgang said with authority. "We're going to the camp to protect the Allied prisoners, not to harm them. Except the German guards won't realize what we're doing."

"You're going to fool the guards? How will you do that, Onkel Wolfgang?" asked Gerhardt.

"By acting fierce whenever the Germans are watching."

Sieglinde bounced up and down. "We can do that! That's why Heidi was teaching us to growl at the uniforms!"

"But how will the prisoners know that you won't hurt them?" persisted Gerhardt.

"I'm not sure yet," admitted Wolfgang. "Humans are notoriously difficult to train. But hopefully we'll be able to gain their trust eventually."

Frieda smiled. "You will gain their trust, Wolfgang. No one communicates with humans as well as you do."

* * *

><p>Across the farmyard Oskar and his father watched as Heidi completed the lesson with the pups and then approached the two men with an easy, swinging stride.<p>

Tall, flaxen-haired and beautiful, Kurt's wife had the appearance of a Wagnerian heroine. She had a mind of her own, too, and an energetic intelligence that made Oskar wonder sometimes just what she had seen in the stolid Kurt. But they were a devoted couple, and Heidi and Kurt were as determined as Oskar to join the Resistance in some way.

He glanced at his father, who was smiling at Heidi approvingly, and Oskar sighed. Surely after seventy-seven years of existence, and witnessing Germany engaging in three wars of aggression in his lifetime, his father was due for some peace and quiet. But elderly and frail though Emil Schnitzer was, he had an indomitable spirit, and Oskar knew in his heart that his father would never submit meekly to life under Hitler. He would be just as active in the Resistance as the rest of the family.

"Hallo, Onkel Oskar!" Heidi greeted him. "You've come to pick up Opa?"

"_Ja. _And then I will be off to the new Luftstalag, to meet with Colonel Klink. Just one more of the hoops that Colonel Burkhalter has required me to jump through...we are to assess the needs of the camp regarding the number of dogs required."

Emil gave his son a troubled look. "Do you think there will be any problem getting the contract for the camp?"

"No," Oskar said. "I don't think so...Weimer and the other large-scale dog breeders are already committed to the bigger camps. This will be a small affair in their eyes. Plus, I plan to offer Colonel Burkhalter favorable terms."

"Hmmm." Heidi narrowed her eyes. "Not too favorable, I hope, Onkel. This Colonel Burkhalter will take you at your own evaluation, remember." Then she smiled. "Why don't you let me draw up a business plan that you can present to him? I have a feeling that Colonel Burkhalter will be impressed by such things."

Oskar nodded. "You could be right, Heidi. I'll be meeting with him next week at his home in Hammelburg, so I'll take it with me then, if you could have it ready."

Emil said, "And today...why don't you take a sample of your wares when you meet with this Colonel Klink?"

Oskar swept his arm out, indicating the four puppies who were now frolicking and wrestling with each other in the grass. "Perhaps I should take this cuddly bunch along...they look intimidating, do they not?"

His father laughed. "They will someday, I'm sure. No, I thought perhaps you should take Wolfgang with you. He is fully trained, and I'm sure he could scare the breeches off this Colonel Klink."

They both looked at Wolfgang, who dipped his head modestly.

"_Ja," _Oskar said thoughtfully. "I believe I will..."

* * *

><p><em>AN: The "Twilight Barking" is from Dodie Smith's 1956 book _The Hundred and One Dalmatians.


	4. The camp  and Colonel Klink

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

Oskar and Wolfgang meet Colonel Klink...

* * *

><p>The morning was still young as Oskar Schnitzer drove the truck into his front yard, shut off the engine and set the brake. As he and his father climbed out, Maria came bustling out of the house. She stopped and shook her head as Oskar went to the rear of the truck to let Wolfgang out.<p>

"Oskar! You...you are not going to wear _that?"_

"What?" Oskar looked down at his work shirt and trousers, his customary garb for making the daily rounds of the farms. "What is wrong with what I am wearing?"

His wife sighed and tugged on his arm. "Come inside. You have time to have some cake and coffee, _and _time to change into a suit and tie."

Oskar shot an anguished glance at his father, but Emil only smiled and shrugged.

"Better listen to her, boy. Women know best about these things. And you want to impress this Colonel Klink, don't you?"

Wolfgang woofed agreement and Oskar sighed.

"And you might as well dress up a little," Maria added. "Johannes Weimer called; he would like you to go to Schweinfurt later on today to look at a couple of dogs."

"Very well," Oskar said, bowing to the inevitable. He followed Maria meekly into the house.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, Wolfgang (his coat freshly brushed by Maria) and Schnitzer (wearing the suit and tie) were on their way to Luftstalag 13. The Doctor looked briefly at the dog occupying the passenger seat of the truck.<p>

"You heard Maria, Wolfgang. We must present a professional appearance."

"Right," Wolfgang nodded.

"And this Colonel Klink must be made to realize how much he needs us."

"Piece of cake," Wolfgang assured him.

"So you must unnerve him."

"I'm looking forward to it!"

"But not too much, Wolfgang," the Doctor cautioned.

"Don't worry, Doc," Wolfgang grinned. "We dogs can be subtle when we want to."

The Doctor looked at Wolfgang and sighed. "I wish I could understand what you're saying...but I have the feeling we're in agreement."

"Oh, we are, Doc."

* * *

><p>It was a fairly short drive to the prison camp, and soon the truck was rolling up to the front gates. A bored guard examined the Doctor's identification and letter of introduction, and waved them through.<p>

The Doctor pulled up in front of a wooden building marked Kommandantur and switched off the engine. He got out of the truck and went around to the passenger side. With a muttered, "I am sorry, Wolfgang," he clipped a stout leather leash to the dog's collar.

Wolfgang jumped down and took stock of his surroundings.

The scent of newly milled lumber was sharp in the air, and there were a number of workmen hammering and carrying bundles here and there. It looked as though twenty or so doghouses for humans were in the process of construction. But it was curious that although no prisoners were here yet to be penned in, the tall double fences of barbed wire were already in place. And watchtowers loomed menacingly at each corner of the compound.

Wolfgang and the Doctor looked up as the door of the Kommandantur opened and a man stepped out onto the porch and came down the steps. Tall, thin and balding, he wore the uniform of an _Oberst_ of the Luftwaffe, and had a monocle screwed into his left eye.

Wolfgang thoughtfully regarded the Luftwaffe officer as he walked up to them. This man didn't smell like a Nazi.

And Wolfgang had a very clear memory of what Nazis smelled like, when the Gestapo had invaded his home. They smelled of ruthlessness, arrogance, and utter contempt for their fellow human beings.

They smelled of evil.

The _Oberst_, in contrast, smelled of self-doubt and anxiety. Not an evil man, but a weak and frightened one. Wolfgang filed this information away for future reference, and watched impassively as the Doctor clicked his heels and gave a slight bow.

"Oskar Schnitzer, _Herr Oberst._"

"And I am Kommandant Klink, _Herr Doktor._" The tall thin man looked down at Wolfgang and reached out tentatively to pat him on the head.

Wolfgang gave him a cold-eyed look, curled his lip and allowed a low growl to resonate in his chest. He knew his hackles were rising in a most intimidating manner.

Colonel Klink drew back sharply and gave an anxious titter. "Not very friendly, is he?"

The Doctor said, "He has a job to do, _Herr Kommandant_. I assume you do not want the guard dogs to be friendly to the prisoners?"

Klink shook his head. "Of course not! And I will admit, I am a little afraid of dogs...but they are essential to keeping prisoners in line, I have been told. Shall I take you on a tour of our camp?"

The Doctor assented, and the three of them walked through the compound, with Colonel Klink pointing out the different buildings.

"And there's the recreation hall, and the mess hall, and that's the delousing station…unpleasant, but unfortunately so necessary. And here is where the dogs will be kept."

They paused outside a wire enclosure that had several sturdy doghouses in place. Klink said, "Accommodations for eight dogs have been provided, as this is the number of dogs the prison camp administration has allotted for three hundred prisoners." He looked at the Doctor a little nervously. "You are able to provide this number of dogs?"

"Of course," said the Doctor. "Eight will be on duty at all times. I shall be rotating them frequently, naturally."

"Rotating them?"

The Doctor smiled. "A precaution, of course. You would not want the prisoners becoming too familiar with the dogs, I am sure."

Wolfgang chuckled inwardly. This had been Kurt's idea, to give the Doctor a reason to visit the camp more frequently, as well as to give the dogs on duty a much deserved rest. But it did sound very professional, and Klink looked suitably impressed.

"Yes, yes, of course." Klink hesitated. "I think this all sounds very satisfactory. The camp is scheduled to open in August; can you be ready by then?"

"Of course, _Herr Kommandant," _the Doctor assured him. "And don't worry once the camp is open; I shall be here frequently of course, seeing to the dogs. But I'll be in the background - you'll never even notice that I'm here."

Klink smiled and seemed to relax now that these details were out of the way. "Won't you come into my office, _Herr Doktor?_ It's very bare now, of course, but I can offer you some schnapps."

"_Danke, Herr Kommandant._ That would be most welcome."

* * *

><p>Klink eyed Wolfgang warily as he accompanied the men into the office, but as the dog took up a position by the door and studiously ignored the Kommandant, he sighed and didn't offer an objection.<p>

There were only two chairs in the room and Klink offered one to Oskar, who sat down and accepted a tiny glass of schnapps.

Klink disposed himself in the other chair and sipped at his own glass of schnapps. "You are probably wondering about how Luftstalag 13 came into being, especially since the huge camp nearby also has the 'thirteen' designation."

"I did wonder about that," allowed Oskar.

The Colonel sighed. "To tell you the truth, I am not quite sure why the Luftwaffe wishes to maintain a prisoner of war camp when there is another, much larger camp so near." Klink shook his head sadly. "I am much afraid that this camp, and I, as its Kommandant, will be viewed merely as a token Luftwaffe presence here in Hammelburg."

He peered into the depths of his schnapps glass and confessed, "I was only a minor member of _Reichsmarschall _Göring's staff, you see, mostly bookkeeping duties, I'm afraid…I had hoped to just do my job and not attract attention, but then I was ordered to report to Colonel Burkhalter's office, and I was given this assignment. I really don't understand it..."

"No doubt they recognized talent you yourself are too modest to acknowledge, _Herr Kommandant,"_ Oskar told Klink, mentally crossing his fingers behind his back. He had come to much the same conclusion as Wolfgang had about the new Kommandant. Klink was obviously worried about his own survival in these troubled times; all Oskar had to do was make him realize how essential the dogs would be to that survival.

_"_Do you really think so, _Herr Doktor?__" _Klink asked eagerly. "I really do try to please my superiors. I don't wish to cause trouble for myself."

"The very qualities that will enable you to succeed at this new endeavor, I am certain, _Herr Kommandant."_

_"_Oh, I do hope so! It's true the glorious Third Reich is rolling through Europe with ridiculous ease, and the Russians signed that non-aggression pact last year so we needn't worry about _them_; but one can't help but wonder where this will all end." Klink shook his head, and then looked at Wolfgang again. "And your dogs will help me to maintain control in this camp?"

"Most assuredly, _Herr Kommandant._ And the dogs will free up your guards for other duties, as I am sure you are aware, sir_._ Think of the savings in labor costs."

Klink nodded, with a thoughtful look on his face. "Colonel Burkhalter will appreciate that, I'm sure."

Oskar leaned forward and said confidentially, "But remember, the dogs are killers."

Klink cast an anxious glance at Wolfgang, who bared his teeth ever so slightly. "Killers."

"And realizing that, the prisoners will give you no trouble. They will be cowed."

Klink nodded. "Cowed. Yes, indeed."

Oskar sighed inwardly; this was almost too easy. "You will have tamed them, Kommandant."

"Tamed them, yes. My prisoners will be tame." A change seemed to come over Klink and he slowly rose to his feet. As he walked to the window of the office his head was held high and his shoulders were straight, his monocle glittering as he gazed off into the distance.

The Kommandant was obviously seeing a glorious vision.

"No one will ever escape, and Luftstalag 13 will be renowned across the land," he said, as one who has stumbled upon a great truth. "I shall be known as the Kommandant of the toughest prison camp in all of Germany! Not a token Kommandant after all, but a role model for prison camp Kommandants everywhere!"

Oskar wondered if he had created a monster.

Klink went on, "That camp on the other side of town…pah! It may be bigger, but I shall prove that the Luftwaffe does a far better job controlling those Allied barbarians!"

"Of course, _Herr Kommandant."_

"We shall never mention that camp again."

"Never, _Herr Kommandant."_

"From now on, when people speak of Stalag 13, they will be speaking of Luftstalag 13!"

"_Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!"_

Klink abruptly wilted, and looked at Oskar appealingly. "That _is_ what will happen, isn't it, _Herr Doktor?"_

"Of course, Colonel Klink," Oskar said kindly. "I will do everything in my power to make it so. With my dogs and your superior organizational ability, this camp will indeed be famous."

* * *

><p>As they drove away from the new Luftstalag, the Doctor smiled. "I think we have a job there, Wolfgang."<p>

"Told you it would be a piece of cake," said Wolfgang. He was mildly surprised when the Doctor nodded in agreement. Could he possibly be learning to understand when dogs spoke?

Wolfgang sighed. Probably not.


	5. A cop and a clown

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>After they returned from their visit to Luftstalag 13, the Doctor opened the gate to the exercise yard and Wolfgang trotted in.<p>

The exercise yard was actually a spacious meadow adjacent to the kennels, and it was lush with grass and dotted with overhanging shade trees. Wolfgang mentally contrasted this pleasant place with the bleakness of the Luftstalag compound, and resolutely told himself that there was a war on, and a duty to be done.

He was met by the others, who were all eager to hear about his trip.

"What's up with Frieda and the pups?" This was from Gerda, who had only met Frieda once, when Kurt had brought her for a visit.

Günther tilted his head. "Any news from the Twilight Barking?"

"What did you think of the camp?" Hildegard asked. "And when do we start?"

Wolfgang found a place in the shade and stretched out with a sigh. "The pups are doing well, Frieda sends her regards, the Twilight Barking news is bad, and the camp...well, the camp will be a challenge."

"We're up to it," said Franz confidently.

Wolfgang acknowledged this with a smile, and went on, "First off, these humans for whom we will be responsible: there will be, eventually, three hundred or more of them penned up in this camp."

Gerda's eyes widened. "That's a lot of humans."

Wolfgang nodded. "Yes, a good-sized flock. And there will be eight of us on duty at all times."

"Eight?" Hildegard looked around, obviously counting noses. "There are only seven of us."

"Eight, counting Frieda," Dieter corrected.

"And the Doctor is going to Schweinfurt today to see about a couple of new recruits," said Wolfgang.

Gerda looked up. "Schweinfurt? Recruits from Herr Weimer? I wonder if it will be anyone we know, Dieter."

"Maybe." Dieter gave a short, unamused laugh. "Another couple of war dog rejects."

Wolfgang gave him a stern look and shook his head. "We are not rejects, Dieter. We are _shepherds. _Our job is to protect our flock from predators. It is a tragedy that some humans have forgotten that."

"Predators," Franz mused, his eyes darkening with an unpleasant memory. "They tried to make me into a predator, back at the _Diensthunde _training camp in Frankfurt."

Wolfgang nodded. "Exactly. And that is what the Doctor has saved us from."

Albrecht spoke for the first time. "And I was saved from being put down. Fortunately the Doctor didn't feel I am too old for this work."

"I am lucky as well, Albrecht," Günther reminded him. "And by the time you and I are retired, the pups will be able to take over for us."

Wolfgang looked at him sharply, and Günther shrugged. "You said the news from the Twilight Barking was bad. From what I know of them, the Nazis will not be satisfied until all of Europe is conquered. I am very much afraid that we guard dogs will be needed for a long time - it is good that the younger generation is being trained."

Wolfgang sighed. It was only too true, and he wondered if Frieda realized this. "At least they – and we - are being given the opportunity to do the work we were born to do."

"Except the prison camp people won't realize that," said Hildegard.

"Do you think we will be able to hear the Twilight Barking at the camp?" asked Dieter.

"No idea," replied Wolfgang. "We might be able to receive, but remember, we won't be able to transmit."

"Why not?" Gerda wanted to know.

"Because any barking on our part will attract the attention of the guards. It will take a long time to train the guards to do what we want, in any case. We can't afford to make them suspicious."

"And we have to train the prisoners, as well," added Albrecht.

Franz flopped down and put his head on his paws. "I'd say we definitely have our work cut out for us."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, Oskar Schnitzer was on his way to Schweinfurt. Weimer's kennels were just to the west of the city, about thirty kilometers from Hammelburg, so in good weather it wasn't a long drive at all. He wondered what kind of dogs Weimer had for him today.<p>

Johannes Weimer was very busy these days, but he had a soft spot for his old friend Oskar. They had started together at the Berlin Veterinary College many years ago, and even though Johannes decided not to finish the program they had kept in touch. Both were members of the Society for the German Shepherd Dog and both had a deep interest in the breed.

Their views on the current use of the dogs (and the Nazis' 1936 takeover of the Society) diverged sharply, but Oskar wisely did not bring that to Johannes' attention. And the fact that Johannes viewed him as something of a charity case bothered Oskar not at all.

His only concern was to fulfill the task he had set for himself, and if in process of obtaining guard dogs for the Luftstalag he could rescue a few dogs from an uncertain fate, well, that was a powerful incentive to maintain contact with his old friend.

As he pulled into the yard of the Weimer kennels he was impressed, as always, by the sheer number of German shepherds gathered here and the noise they generated on his arrival.

Johannes came out of the small building he used as an office, and waved to Oskar, beckoning him over.

Oskar got out of the truck and greeted him. "Maria tells me you have a dog or two for me to see."

"_Ja, _I do, and such beauties! You will not believe this." Johannes opened the door and gestured for Oskar to enter first.

And there, seated side by side in the middle of Johannes' office, were two identical _Schäferhunde_: the same size, the same black and tan coloring, the same markings. They looked at Oskar and tilted their heads at the same angle.

"_Meine Güte! _– are they littermates?"

Johannes chuckled. "_Nein_…no relation to each other, as far as I know. And their temperaments are very different, as you will see. The one on the right is Friedrich."

Friedrich got to his feet and regarded both men alertly.

"Friedrich was a member of the Munich police force, trained in search and rescue. His handler was called up for active duty in the Army and Friedrich was going to be conscripted as well. But he lacks the killer instincts needed for military duty." Johannes shrugged. "No doubt he would rather be looking for lost children."

"And the other?"

"Ah, yes, Fritzi." Johannes clapped his hands once.

Fritzi promptly stood on his hind legs, with his front paws tucked neatly in front of him, and began to dance in a circle, while the other dog regarded this performance with a pained expression.

Oskar watched in astonishment. "Where did you find _him?"_

"He was with the Circus Schieffler…the headliner for their dog act. Quite successful, actually; he knows all sorts of tricks. You should see him climb a ladder! But the circus was heading into Czechoslovakia and the owner decided to disband the dog act." Johannes lowered his voice. "Apparently the dog trainer was Roma, and he vanished one night."

"I see." Oskar hoped the dog trainer had vanished of his own accord, and not as a result of an act of the Gestapo.

"Yes, well, you can understand that guard duty might not be Fritzi's strong point. But I thought you might want to take a look at him anyway."

Oskar smiled. "Thank you for showing them to me. I will be happy to take them both."

Johannes nodded. "Good. I'm glad, for they are both healthy, intelligent dogs, and I'd hate to see them put down. I had a feeling you might want to add them to your group…but are all of these odd ducks really going to work out for you?"

"They'll work just fine," Oskar assured him. "In fact, they are just the kind of dogs I need."

* * *

><p>As he drove back to Hammelburg with the two new recruits in the back of the truck, Oskar suddenly found himself shaken by doubt. Who was he to think he could make a difference in this terrible time? He had led his entire family down a path that could end with them all arrested by the Gestapo.<p>

And the dogs, who looked to him so trustingly…what sort of life would they have behind barbed wire? They would be as much prisoners as the Allied airmen shortly to be incarcerated at Luftstalag 13. And how would the Luftwaffe guards treat the dogs?

Well, at least that was one factor he could control. Oskar began to smile as a plan began to form in his mind. And he felt sure Colonel Burkhalter would agree to it…


	6. The aristocrat

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>A drift of warm spring breeze wafted through the open window of Colonel Burkhalter's study as Oskar Schnitzer entered the room. Burkhalter rose from his desk and greeted him affably, pointing him to a chair facing the desk.<p>

"Thank you for coming, _Herr Doktor._ You have heard the news? Dunkirk has fallen, and many prisoners taken; apparently the British were only able to rescue a pitiful remnant of their army."

That there was a rescue at all was news to Oskar, of course, since such an admission was naturally not broadcast to the German public. And what Burkhalter described as a "pitiful remnant" was no doubt much greater than that. Oskar was careful to conceal the cautious hint of optimism he felt as he took his seat.

Burkhalter resumed his own seat and continued, "Today is what, the sixth of June? I am not one to make predictions, _Herr Doktor,_ but mark my words, four years from now we shall see a completely different Europe. The Allies will never dare set foot on the Continent again."

"No doubt you are correct, _Herr Oberst."_

"And shortly the RAF will be swept from the skies of their own country. In any case they would never dare violate the skies over Germany, so we shall all sleep well in our beds tonight, _ja? _But the continuing success of the Wehrmacht means more prisoners of war, so we shall get down to business. First, I must tell you that, naturally, I had you investigated prior to arranging for your services to the Third Reich."

Oskar kept his face expressionless, but his heart was pounding. Even though he and his family had anticipated this, and even though Oskar had led a remarkably blameless life (up till now), the thought of being investigated by the Gestapo was unnerving.

Burkhalter picked up a paper from his desk. "Educated at the _Realgymnasium_ in Frankfurt, went on to study at the Berlin Veterinary College, as did your father before you. Hmmm...it appears you provided guide dogs for the school for the blind at Oldenburg in the years following the Great War...but in the past few years you have devoted yourself to your large animal practice in Hammelburg, seeing to the livestock of the farmers in the area."

Burkhalter looked up. "Very commendable, _Herr Doktor,_ to recognize that your contribution to German agriculture is far more important than pandering to the needs of the helpless."

Oskar found he was clenching his teeth and deliberately forced himself to relax. He met Burkhalter's gaze coolly and responded only with a noncommittal shrug.

Burkhalter continued urbanely, "And I imagine you have taken up training dogs again because you have recognized the critical need the Third Reich has for guard dogs."

Oskar growled, "It promises to be another source of income, as well, _Herr Oberst_."

Burkhalter's rotund frame quivered as he gave a short laugh. "Your candor is refreshing, _Herr Doktor._ And your motivations do not concern me, as long as you provide what I want. You have a proposal for me to look at?"

Oskar handed him the business plan Heidi and Maria had worked so diligently to create.

Burkhalter reviewed the first page of the proposal with flattering attention, turned the page, perused that as well, and then flipped back to the first page.

He set the pages down on the desktop with an air of finality, and then slid them to one side. Leaning back in his desk chair, he looked at Oskar for a long moment.

Then he smiled quite pleasantly, or at least as pleasantly as a dueling scar and slightly bulging eyes would allow. "Your proposal for the provision of guard dogs for the new Luftstalag is most interesting. Your rates are quite reasonable, considering you state that you will be responsible for the care and feeding of the dogs."

"That is correct, _Herr Oberst."_

"And you will undertake training of the guards who will be handling the dogs?"

Oskar did not mention that it was his way of ensuring that the guards did not mistreat the dogs. Instead he said, "I feel it is in the best interests of all concerned, _Herr Oberst. _The dogs will respond more effectively to consistent commands and a predictable routine. And it will be safer for the guards as well, if they know how to properly deal with such potentially dangerous creatures."

"Yes, yes, quite right, _Herr Doktor_. I am particularly impressed with your intention to change the dogs periodically, so they will not become familiar with the prisoners. An excellent notion! I shall suggest it to the other prison camps for which I am responsible."

Burkhalter rose to his feet, with Oskar following suit. "I believe we have an agreement, _Herr Doktor. _The new Luftstalag near Hammelburg will be completed soon, and we expect the arrival of the first Allied airmen by August. There have been unavoidable delays, of course, since Stalag XIII-C is a higher priority." He sighed. "Always there must be this territorialism between the armed services! One would think this small _Arbeitskommando _under Luftwaffe control threatens the other camp in some way. Regardless, Luftstalag 13 will be open for business in August."

"I shall have the dogs in place and the guards trained prior to the opening, _Herr Oberst,_" Oskar assured him.

"Excellent. Allow me to walk you to your vehicle, _Herr Doktor."_

As they went out into the sunshine, Burkhalter confided, "You know, there is a perfectly adequate Luftstalag being established at Barth. I can conceive of no reason why _Reichsmarschall _Göring feels it necessary to have another Luftstalag here in Hammelburg, and such a small one at that. But I will admit that since there is to be another Luftstalag, it is most convenient that it is in Military District 13, and actually located near my own home, so I can keep an eye on it...and Colonel Klink as well."

He allowed himself a wheezy chuckle. "Would you believe it, Klink claims that Luftstalag 13 will be the toughest prison camp in all of Germany!" The chuckle became a hearty laugh and Burkhalter shook his head. "He says there will never be an escape from Luftstalag 13! Perhaps so, perhaps so. And if what he claims actually comes to pass, you may be sure, _Herr Doktor,_ that I shall be made general on the strength of it!"

"I should not be at all surprised if you were, _Herr Oberst."_

"Well, well, we shall see. In the meantime, things are falling into place nicely for Luftstalag 13. The provision of guard dogs was one of the last things left on my mind, so I thank you, _Herr Doktor."_

"It is my pleasure, and my duty as well, _Herr Oberst." _

The two men exchanged very correct bows, and Oskar took his leave.

* * *

><p>Pleased that his interview with Burkhalter had gone successfully, Oskar was eager to go home and share the news with his family. But before he returned home, he had a final stop to make, at the Schlöss Steuben. The Baroness had requested that he call on her, but she hadn't mentioned the reason for the request.<p>

He drove the truck carefully across the narrow stone bridge that led to the small castle. It was a lovely day and the carefully-tended grounds were colorful with spring flowers, brilliant against the emerald of the turf. He pulled the truck to a stop on the carriage sweep outside of the imposing front door.

Oskar took his bag from the back of the truck - best to be prepared, even if this wasn't a professional visit. He trod up the front steps and pulled the bell cord. A deep, hollow sound intoned within, and the door was opened by an elderly manservant.

"_Guten Tag, _Franz."

"_Guten Tag, Herr Doktor._ The Baroness awaits you."

* * *

><p>In the castle's study, the Baroness von Steuben was seated by the radio, listening intently. Sitting near her chair was Bismarck, a handsome young <em>Schäferhund<em>, listening just as intently.

The door to the study opened and Franz ushered in Doctor Schnitzer. The Baroness switched off the device and dismissed Franz with a nod and a smile. "Doctor Schnitzer…please come in. I have been listening to the announcements on the radio. It may be just the propaganda Herr Goebbels sees fit to feed the public, but I fear it is true…France has fallen. They have not actually surrendered yet, but it is inevitable."

"I am sorry to hear that," said Schnitzer, and Bismarck guessed that the news did not come as a surprise to the Doctor.

The Baroness sighed. "I knew it was coming; I just didn't realize it would come so soon. So Hitler's juggernaut has slashed through another country as though it were butter. England will be next, I fear." She shook her head and turned away from the radio. "Thank you for coming, _Herr Doktor. _"

"It is my pleasure, Baroness." He bent down to greet the dog. "Hallo, Bismarck."

Bismarck lifted his paw gravely and offered it to Schnitzer, who shook it just as gravely.

The Doctor turned to the Baroness with a slight smile. "I am guessing I don't need this today," as he held up his medical bag. "Bismarck looks as though he is enjoying his usual good health." Then he peered at the Baroness more closely, and Bismarck knew what he saw came as a shock.

The Baroness was in her mid-fifties, only a few years older than the Doctor, but in the few months since his last visit she had become an old woman. She was painfully thin, and the fragile hand that stroked Bismarck's fur was almost translucent.

With an effort, she replied, "Yes, he has been quite well. But forgive my lack of manners. Please sit, _Herr Doktor._ "

The Doctor took a seat on the sofa facing her. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes." The Baroness closed her eyes for a moment, as if to gather strength, then she looked at the Doctor calmly. "After Wilhelm was killed in the Great War I was glad we had never had children. I did not want any more hostages to fate. But now...now I wish I had sons, sons who could join the Resistance against the monster who has Germany in his grasp." She paused. "I speak freely in front of you, my friend, because I think you can help me."

"If I can be of service to you..."

The Baroness took a deep breath. "I am dying. Cancer of the pancreas, the doctors tell me...it is a matter of weeks only. I have been told to get my affairs in order, and I have done so."

This was a further shock to Schnitzer, Bismarck could tell. But of course he himself had known for weeks that death hovered over his human, long before the Baroness even suspected her illness.

She went on, "But the most important matter is Bismarck, of course. He has been my friend and my companion...a most satisfactory companion."

At this point the precise, unemotional voice faltered a bit. "He is young and strong and intelligent, a valuable purebred dog. I do not want him to end up in the hands of the Nazis. The thought of that is...unbearable to me."

Bismarck knew from the look on the Doctor's face that he feared the Baroness was asking the unthinkable. But she held up a hand.

"No, Doctor, I don't want you to put him down. But he is attached to me, as I am to him." Here her voice faltered again, and she had to pause for a moment. "He is all I have. When I am gone, he will need a purpose in life; he will need work to do, important work."

"You know that I am providing guard dogs for the new Luftstalag near Hammelburg," Schnitzer said. It was a statement, not a question.

"_Ja_. And I believe you are doing this for a reason. These dogs will be protecting the prisoners, rather than guarding them. Am I correct?"

The Doctor hesitated. "_Ja_, that is part of it."

She nodded. "You have found a way to support the Allied effort, here, deep in the heart of Germany. _Sehr gut! _And so I would like to entrust Bismarck to you, if you will accept."

"I would be honored, Baroness."

"Will you take him now?"

"But, Baroness..."

She shook her head. "I shall be leaving tomorrow for Bad Tölz, to a clinic where I shall be spending my last days in a morphine-induced cloud. I do not handle pain well, you see. And I do not want Bismarck to remember me like that. So, please..."

"Of course, I will take him."

"_Danke."_ She bent slightly, painfully, toward the dog and cradled his head in her hands. "_Liebling_, I must say goodbye now...I think you know why. I have no sons to fight for the Resistance, but you will go with Doctor Schnitzer and work with him to help free Germany." She kissed his forehead tenderly. _"_Farewell_, _Bismarck_. Ich liebe dich._"

Bismarck looked up into her eyes. Everything in him cried out that he should be with her in her last days, to offer what comfort he could. But that was not what she wanted, and he would be obedient. He would do his duty; he would not disappoint her. But his heart was breaking.

He rested his head gently on her knee one last time. _"Ich liebe dich, Mutter."_


	7. First contact

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

Connections are being made…

* * *

><p>Oskar Schnitzer stepped out of his house into the warmth of the late spring morning, and grumbled as he took the shopping list from his wife. "Am I some sort of <em>Hausfrau, <em>to be buying yeast and flour? I have patients to see, Maria!"

"On the other side of Hammelburg, Oskar. This will be on your way, it will take but a few minutes - we don't wish to waste gasoline on a separate trip, do we?"

"I suppose not." He bent to kiss her cheek, and climbed into his truck.

Twenty minutes later he was at Max Schumann's shop, and he went up to the counter, uncomfortable as he always was with the role of shopper. Fortunately, at the moment there were no other customers in the shop to embarrass him.

The shopkeeper eyed him with some amusement. "How may I help you?"

"Flour, sugar, and yeast, _bitte_," Oskar mumbled.

Max chuckled. "So you have taken up baking, I see." He went to the flour barrel, and said over his shoulder, "Another occupation for you, hmm? I hear you supply guard dogs for the Luftstalag as well."

Oskar went still. "_Ja."_

Max came back to the counter with a sack of flour. He plopped it on the counter, and looked Oskar in the eye. "It's been a long time, Oskar. I am thinking perhaps we should have a beer together, _ja?"_

Oskar was well acquainted with Max, and he knew the shopkeeper was no more in the habit of frequenting the Hofbrau than he was. Could it be...

He cleared his throat, and said casually, "Why don't you come to my house this evening? Maria would be delighted to see you."

"_Wunderbar! _I will see you at seven?"

"Seven it is."

* * *

><p>That evening, Kurt and Heidi came to Oskar's cottage in anticipation of Max's visit. Maria had them sit at the kitchen table where Emil was already seated. Frieda, who was home for a few days on leave from the camp, sat quietly beside Kurt's chair, ears alert and eyes watchful.<p>

Maria bustled over to the woodstove, checking the teakettle anxiously to see why it had not yet boiled.

Oskar looked at her with exasperated affection. "Sit down, Maria! We don't even know yet if Max is with the Resistance. I honestly can't think of anyone less likely to be involved; I've known him for years, and a more timid fellow I never met."

Emil shook his head. "Times have changed, and people change, boy. Look at you!"

Heidi nodded. "Look at all of us. We do what we must, Onkel."

"That is true, Oskar." Maria took the now-bubbling teakettle off the stove and poured hot water into the teapot. "Timid Max may have been, but he has always been one to do what is right."

Oskar turned his head as a knock fell on the door. He opened it and ushered Max into the kitchen.

Max checked on the threshold; the number of people gathered in the kitchen obviously took him by surprise and he glanced at Oskar.

Oskar said gruffly, "My family is involved in everything I do, Max."

Max looked at each of them, and nodded. "_Sehr gut._" He smiled as Maria hovered with the teapot. "Yes, I would love a cup of tea, Maria."

Flustered, Maria returned his smile. "Of course. Please, sit."

Max accepted a cup of tea and waved away the offer of sugar. "I have heard things about you, Oskar."

"So you said," Oskar said noncommittally.

Max nodded. "Most people say you are just trying to earn a few extra marks in these hard times. But I know you, Oskar. I believe you have a special reason for providing guard dogs to a prisoner of war camp."

"And if I do?"

"Then perhaps you can be of use to us," Max said.

"Us?"

Max took a deep breath and looked around the table. "The Resistance."

There was a collective sigh, and Frieda thumped her tail. Oskar said carefully, "What can I do for you?"

Max said, "We are a fledgling group in Hammelburg, but we are all determined to oppose Hitler in any way we can. And at some point we hope to establish contact with the British and ask their assistance." He leaned forward and added, "Since you have been visiting the camp, you have observed things, _ja?"_

_"Ja."_

"And since you are a familiar and trusted figure at the camp, you will continue to observe things. Perhaps gather information that might be of use to the Resistance, and to the Allies."

Oskar smiled wryly. "That was my intention from the start. That, and to provide the prisoners with some measure of protection."

Max smiled in return. "Just as I hoped." He raised his cup to the assembled group. "To the Resistance!"

"To the Resistance!"

Frieda woofed.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, back at the camp….<p>

The worst part was the not knowing.

Peter had no regrets. In his relatively short life, he had done many things, some of them dodgy, to be sure, but he was proud to have served his King and country. And he had done his bit. When the last Hurricane was sent off from the temporary air base at Lille, Peter and his mates were left behind to take part in the desperate rearguard action intended to save Britain's army from destruction at Dunkirk.

He could see them now, the thousands of stunned and defeated soldiers, line after line of them, headed for the beaches and the hope of salvation.

All Peter could do, and all any of the Allied soldiers left behind could do, was try to prevent the Germans from reaching Dunkirk for as long as possible. But in the confusion of trying to evade the shelling and the strafing, there was no way for Peter to know how many of the BEF actually made it to the beaches.

Or if there were any boats to take them off the beaches. Or if those boats ever made it to England.

And after he was captured and sent to Dulag Luft, he knew nothing at all of the fate of his country. Two agonizing months later, he was shipped out, a shorter trip this time, to a brand-new prisoner of war camp: Luftstalag 13.

At Luftstalag 13, nobody else knew anything either. Except the Germans, and you couldn't bloody well believe a thing they said anyway.

But he needed to know. Had their sacrifice been worth it? Or was the British Army destroyed, and Britain totally at the mercy of the filthy Huns?

Peter just didn't know. And he had to find out.

His first attempt at escape could hardly be described as such. Just wandered a wee bit too close to the wire one day, and a guard spotted him, and quick as a wink he was in the cooler for ten days.

Peter might have done some dodgy things in his past, but he'd never spent time in nick before, and he was an unhappy POW while in the cooler. To make matters worse, after his release he found that his fellow prisoners took a dim view of his transgression.

"You've kangaroos loose in the top paddock, mate," was MacLaughlin's considered opinion.

"_Zinzin,"_ was how Rocheleau put it.

"Ruddy blighter made it worse for the lot of us," was the general consensus.

Peter had a hazy idea that it was every British officer's duty to escape, but apparently that didn't apply to the lower ranks, at least not according to his fellow prisoners. Still, he had to do something.

Not doing was as bad as not knowing.

And even though he was terrified of the guard dogs – enormous, vicious beasts they were, with fangs that could tear a man's throat out – and of the machine guns wielded by the guards in the watchtowers, he knew what he had to do.

So after weeks of planning and closely observing the comings and goings of the service vehicles that regularly visited the stalag, he made his move. One early spring day he managed to hide himself in the lorry that transported the dustbins from the camp every week.

But with his usual British luck, some overzealous guard searched the lorry before it ever left the gates.

Thirty days in solitary. And Peter despaired of ever leaving the bloody camp.

When he emerged, the air was warm and spring had fully blossomed, evident even in the bleak surroundings of Luftstalag 13. As Peter stumbled to Barracks 2, filthy, unshaven, and blinking from the unaccustomed sunlight, he found a new resident waiting for him.

A diminutive Frenchman with intense dark eyes met him at the door and handed him a precious sliver of soap.

"First you wash, then we talk, _d'accord?"_

In a daze, Peter did as he was told. And shortly he found himself sitting at the common room table, mug of coffee in hand, facing his new acquaintance.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry, chum, but I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Peter Newkirk, Corporal, His Majesty's Royal Air Force, at your service."

"Louis LeBeau," the little Frenchman replied. "Corporal, Free French Air Force,"

Peter lit a cigarette – his first in a month – and squinted at LeBeau through the smoke. "Free French?"

LeBeau touched an insignia on his left sleeve, visible through a tear in his sweater. "We wear _la croix de Lorraine_, and we fight to free France from the Germans and the Vichy collaborators." He sighed. "At least I did, until now."

Peter shook his head; none of this made sense to him. "Forgive me, mate, but I've been a bit out of touch, you might say. Free French? Vichy? When did all this 'appen?"

"After the rescue at Dunkirk, some of us fled to England and some to the south of France and North Africa, to gather our forces. Pétain may have surrendered, but we shall never do so!"

Peter stared; the word "rescue" caught his attention to the exclusion of all else, and the first glimmer of hope in many months stirred in him.

"Then…then the evacuation was successful….we bloody well did it? Britain's army got away?"

"Hundreds of thousands escaped. British, and French as well," replied LeBeau, and he watched with silent sympathy as the British airman put his head down on the table and wept.

After a few moments, LeBeau reached across the table and touched Peter lightly on the arm. "I reached this camp ten days ago and I have let the other prisoners know the truth. We of course have not let the filthy _Boches _know that _we_ know. But since we know, there is hope, _hein?"_

"And the RAF?" Newkirk looked up. "Not destroyed?"

"_Non!_ They have fought gallantly to stave off a German invasion. Which did not happen; the Battle of Britain has been won." He hesitated. "But the _Boches _continue to bomb England."

"They would, the bloody twisters." Newkirk thought of his sister in Stepney, and resolutely pushed the thought away. "But you, mate; 'ow did you end up in their 'ands?"

LeBeau gave a shrug. "A few of us managed to liberate some planes from the air base at Salon-de-Provence." His expression closed down and he added coldly, "But the Vichy traitors captured me and turned me over to the Gestapo. Only my uniform saved me from the firing squad, or worse. But my time with them was not...pleasant."

Peter forbore questioning the Frenchman further, and decided to change the subject. "I reckon you think I'm as barmy as the other blokes 'ere do."

"_Quoi?"_

"You must think I am crazy for trying to escape."

The dark eyes glittered. "You did what I would have done, _mon pote._"

Peter looked at him in some surprise. "You would, eh, mate?"

"_Oui. _And be assured I shall do so at the first opportunity!" LeBeau nodded once, and added mysteriously, "I bide my time."

Peter smiled. "Then we should join forces, eh, Louis? We're bound to come up with a plan." He sobered then, and said, "But the dogs…what do we do about those dogs?"

* * *

><p>The next day, the dogs were wondering what to do about the prisoners.<p>

"They don't seem to like us much," Friedrich observed. He spotted a guard passing by and curled his lip, baring his teeth. The guard glanced nervously at Friedrich and suddenly found urgent business to do on the other side of the compound.

Noticing this, Gerda shook her head. "No wonder. We have to get all growly every time there's a guard around. How are the prisoners to know we can be trusted not to hurt them?"

"That's a good question," said Wolfgang. "We must find a way to connect with them without the guards noticing."

"We should do it soon," said Fritzi. "I was listening outside Barracks 2 last night, and - "

Wolfgang looked at him in surprise. "When did you do that? You weren't on patrol last night."

"Well, I wasn't exactly on patrol. I mean, I didn't have a guard on leash. I was by myself."

"By yourself? Out in the compound?" Bismarck's ears pricked up.

Wolfgang said sternly, "How did you get out of the pen, Fritzi?"

"Oh, it was easy," Fritzi said airily. He looked around the compound to make sure no guards were near, and then trotted over to the gate of the dog pen. "See? I just slide my paw in here, give a little jiggle, and the bar pops free. Of course, lowering the bar again once I came back inside was a little trickier."

"Good grief." Wolfgang shook his head. "But nice work, Fritzi. What did you hear outside Barracks 2?"

"Newkirk and LeBeau were talking, very quietly. They plan to escape."

"Soon?"

"I don't think so. They said something about a lot of preparation that needs to be done."

Wolfgang pondered this for a moment. "It's to be expected. These humans will not be content to be penned up here forever. Their job is to take down the Third Reich, and they will try to return to their own kind so they can do this. Newkirk has tried on his own, and didn't make it out of camp. The next time they might make it past the wire."

Bismarck regarded him with a quizzical expression. "Well, then. Might I suggest that we allow them to do so?"

"It depends." Wolfgang narrowed his eyes. "Right now, it's too soon. Humans do not have the home-finding instincts that dogs possess, you know. Any one of us could go unerringly to our homes over many kilometers. Humans cannot do this; they require maps, and the ability to speak the language of the country they are crossing. Not to mention their lack of foraging ability…they will need food, and money too."

"Poor things," Gerda sighed. "So what can we do?"

"Keep them safe," said Wolfgang. "Safe until they have the tools to successfully escape back to their own people."

Franz scratched his ear thoughtfully. "That could take some time."

"_Ja," _Wolfgang said sadly. "But remember, a dead prisoner will not help get rid of Hitler. And these humans are our flock: it is our duty to protect them. Whether they like it or not."


	8. The escape

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Momentous things were happening to Germany in the summer and autumn months of 1941. Ignoring the Ribbentrop-Molotov Pact, Hitler had ordered the invasion of the Soviet Union in June, commencing Operation Barbarossa, and putting the seal on his own ultimate fate by creating an eastern front.<p>

Happily unaware of how this situation would pose a continuing threat to his future peace of mind, Kommandant Klink was very pleased with how things were going at Luftstalag 13. No further escape attempts had been made, and he complacently reminded the assembled prisoners of this fact every morning at roll call. He took to carrying a riding crop under his arm, and there was a distinct strut to his step.

And visitors began to arrive at the camp, to marvel at the efficiency of the operation and the apparent docility of the prisoners. Luftstalag 13's reputation for being escape-proof was beginning to blossom. Even Colonel Burkhalter was seen to smile when he made his regular visits to the camp.

In fact, in direct contrast to the occurrences on the battlefront, all was serene at Luftstalag 13. At least on the surface.

But the sergeant of the guard, a hefty individual by the name of Hans Schultz, had an uneasy suspicion that all was _not_ serene. In fact, he would have welcomed some signs of ruction among the prisoners, especially from the _Engländer _Newkirk. In his opinion such docility from his boys was just not natural, and he was convinced that there was some monkey business afoot.

But the Kommandant was happy, and Schultz knew that keeping the Kommandant happy was second only to keeping his dear wife Gretchen happy. Because if they were not happy, it was a certainty that Schultz would not be happy either. He had found, throughout many years of marriage, that it was usually best to offer no opinions or observations to his wife that might alarm or annoy her, and this seemed the most desirable course in dealing with Colonel Klink as well.

So, let the boys be boys. He would see nothing, and say nothing.

Of course, the guard dogs of Luftstalag 13 knew very well that something was going on under the surface at the prison camp…literally under the surface. The faint vibrations of subterranean digging could be felt underfoot, and whispered conversations between the prisoners, unheard by the guards but picked up by more sensitive canine ears, revealed that plotting was rife.

And not just by Newkirk and LeBeau. The entire camp population had taken on a new purpose since LeBeau's arrival, and the idea of making an escape seemed to have gained new support. And in August, several Russian prisoners arrived, among them Sergeant Vladimir Minsk, who had been captured at (of all places) Minsk.

As it turned out, Minsk was a tailor, and it was evident that his talents were going to be put to good use.

Wolfgang thought this was a significant development, and cautioned the others that an escape could be imminent.

Franz was doubtful. "What does a tailor have to do with the prisoners escaping?"

"I know the answer to that," said Frieda. "If he can make new clothing for Newkirk and LeBeau, they will look like a different breed of human. And if they look like Germans, they will be able to travel more safely in this country."

"Exactly," Wolfgang said, and then sighed. "At least they're planning ahead."

* * *

><p>As summer faded into autumn, the dogs adopted a new routine, thanks to Schnitzer's request that they be allowed to run free outside the wire every morning.<p>

"They need the exercise," he told a dubious Klink, during one of his frequent visits to the stalag.

"But why?" Klink said. "They are on foot patrol with the guards every day."

"Not enough," said Schnitzer, who really was concerned about the lack of activity for his dogs, and the lack of access to fresh grass to nibble on.

When Klink still seemed unconvinced, Schnitzer shrugged and said, "Of course, I understand that you would not want to upset the prisoners, who might be intimidated seeing the dogs loose outside the wire."

Naturally this tipped the scales in Schnitzer's favor, and Klink hurriedly agreed to the exercise period.

Unfortunately, from the dogs' point of view, while the free running time was most welcome, it did not seem to endear them to the prisoners.

"They look at us as though we're some kind of wild animals," fretted Gerda.

"_Ja,"_ said Günther morosely. "Only LeBeau has dared to come near."

"Really?" Wolfgang said. "When did that happen?" He had been on leave for a few days and was anxious to catch up on the goings-on at camp.

Friedrich, who took the lead when Wolfgang was away, said, "Yesterday the little Frenchman came close to the pen when the guards were not watching."

"He slipped a piece of bread through the fence," said Gerda. "Poor boy! He doesn't look as though he gets enough to eat himself, and yet he was trying to give us food."

"It was a shame to take it," agreed Fritzi.

Wolfgang eyed him with a touch of disapproval. "You ate it?"

"It would have been rude to reject his overtures of friendship," Fritzi assured him. "Besides, I was hungry."

Wolfgang sighed. "Okay, that's understandable, I suppose. Did he say anything to you?"

Fritzi shrugged. "Heidi taught us English, you know, but he was speaking French, so I couldn't tell you what he said. He sounded friendly, though. He left in a hurry because a guard was coming."

Wolfgang nodded. "It would appear that the prisoners are getting closer to an escape. Minsk is making civilian clothes for them and they must be hoarding food if LeBeau had a piece of bread to give you. Has there been any further digging?"

"All the time," said Günther. "They keep hoeing their garden patches, and they haul wheelbarrows of dirt back and forth. The soil doesn't really look different, but it smells of being underground. Obviously they continue to dig holes under the ground like moles, but why, I don't know."

"Maybe to hide the things they are accumulating for the escape?" suggested Friedrich.

"Maybe," Günther said. "And that area at the west fence we've been keeping an eye on: there's a lot of different prisoner scents there, and the fence looks a little different. I think they are cutting through it, bit by bit, but they are doing something to conceal where the wire is cut."

Wolfgang nodded, a troubled look on his face. His strong protective instincts urged him to keep the prisoners in camp, and safe, but he knew if they were prepared for an escape and had a chance of getting away, then they should be allowed to do so.

Frieda looked at him with understanding. "Time for the birds to leave the nest, perhaps?" She sighed. "It's hard to let them go, I know. The pups will soon be ready to join us here at the camp, and I can hardly realize it."

"And the Schnitzers are all becoming more deeply involved with underground activities," Wolfgang said, his expression even more troubled as he thought of the last few days he had spent at the Doctor's home. He was just as protective of the humans at home as he was of the prisoners in camp.

The other dogs watched him in a sympathetic silence. Then Wolfgang shook himself and looked around at the team. "We are all part of the Resistance together, and I need to remember that. So…any ideas on how we can delay the discovery of the escape when it occurs?"

Friedrich pondered this. "Well, just continue as we have been doing...ignoring the signs of prisoner activity when we have the guards on leash."

"We can be careful to lead the guards away from the west fence when on patrol outside the wire." Günther said, and then added, "Unobtrusively, of course."

Wolfgang nodded slowly. "_Sehr gut_. We will have to keep our eyes open, and our ears and noses too."

* * *

><p>But it wasn't until the seventh of December, when all hell was breaking loose on the other side of the world and drawing a new player into the conflict, that the long-anticipated escape occurred.<p>

It was cold and icy particles of snow were accumulating rapidly on the ground when Frieda and Franz returned from patrol after lights out.

"It's happened," said Franz briefly. "Newkirk and LeBeau, through the west fence."

"Dear heaven." Hildegard closed her eyes and shook her head.

Frieda looked at her. "What? Aren't they ready? They've spent months preparing!"

Wolfgang was grim. "That's immaterial right now. You probably couldn't hear the Twilight Barking on the other side of camp - we just got an emergency message that there are Gestapo patrols moving out from Hammelburg. Newkirk and LeBeau don't stand a chance."

"What shall we do?" asked Bismarck.

"We've got to find them before the Gestapo do," Wolfgang said. "Frieda, you and Franz start barking - get the guards back here, get them on leash and take them to the breakout spot. That should get the rest of us released to search for the prisoners."

Frieda and Franz promptly started up an unholy racket, and the searchlights from the watchtowers swung to focus on the dog pen. Corporal Kohl hurried over, concern written on his face.

"_Was ist los?"_

The two dogs began to whine and paw at the gate, and Kohl shouted to another guard. "Zeller! _Kommen Sie hier!"_

Zeller came at a run, and Frieda and Franz soon had the guards on leash and began dragging them to the west fence. The searchlights followed them, and there were shouts from the guards as the break in the fence was discovered.

By this time, an agitated Kommandant Klink had emerged on the porch of the Kommandantur, clad only in a nightshirt, uniform cap, and monocle.

Apparently he was seeing his perfect record go up in smoke as he shrieked: "Sound the alarm! Release the dogs!"

Sergeant Schultz puffed over to the dog pen, moving surprisingly fast for a man of his age and rather portly physique. As he swung open the gate, a horde of furiously barking German shepherds almost knocked him off his feet, with Wolfgang leading the way.

Wolfgang and his team raced for the hurriedly opened front gates of the camp and were soon outside the wire. Wolfgang paused to give urgent instructions.

"We'll fan out into the woods and down the road, in both directions. Albrecht, you and Fritzi take the north road. Friedrich, you and Hildegard take the south road. Bismarck, head west into the woods. I'll head east. If you find them, try not to frighten them, but immobilize them and then give tongue. Hopefully the guards will see that we have things under control and will not shoot. Now go!"

They split up outside the gates and Wolfgang ran to the east, with all his senses straining to detect the missing humans. The snow was falling all the more thickly now, and Wolfgang was grateful for his excellent night vision as he bounded over the uneven ground, narrowly avoiding low-hanging branches.

After a few moments, he paused, listening and sniffing carefully. Then he pressed on, his anxiety rising by the minute. But shortly his ears pricked up as Bismarck's distinctive bark was heard.

"I found them!"

So back he went, heading west. He crossed the Hammelburg road and headed into the woods, guided by Bismarck's barks.

Eventually he reached a small clearing, where Bismarck was confronting an obviously terrified Newkirk. Wolfgang's gaze swept the snowy darkness until he spotted LeBeau, an ominously still figure lying on the ground, with the deadly snow beginning to cover him.

Almost at the same time, Hildegard and Fritzi arrived, panting, with Friedrich on their heels and Albrecht bringing up the rear.

"Keep him warm," Wolfgang said to the first two arrivals, jerking his head toward LeBeau. "But be careful - I don't know how badly he's hurt."

"_Jawohl_, Wolfgang." Hildegard and Fritzi stretched out on the ground on each side of the little Frenchman, crowding close to him.

Not surprisingly, the sight of two dogs converging on LeBeau alarmed Newkirk. He cried out, "Leave 'im alone, you bloody beasts!" and started forward, but stopped when Bismarck moved in front of him.

Newkirk retreated until he came up against a tree. "Get away, damn you! We're not goin' back to that stinkin' camp!"

Hildegard remarked to Fritzi, "Well, that's just rude. After all, we live there too."

"He's anxious for his friend," replied Fritzi.

Hildegard nodded as she snuggled closer to the unconscious LeBeau. "It's touching to see such loyalty. Almost canine, he is."

Meanwhile, Bismarck tried for a placating tone with the agitated Newkirk. "Now, don't take on so, there's a good fellow. We won't hurt LeBeau, you know. You're safe with us; we're friends, _ja?_ Look...I'm offering you my paw!"

Wolfgang sighed. "He's too frightened, Bismarck. Best just to get them back to camp now. We'll have to summon the guards, and hope they get here before the Gestapo do."

The six dogs began to bark, and after a few minutes an answering bark was heard.

"That's Frieda," said Wolfgang. "They'll be here soon. Hildegard, Fritzi: be ready to get up before the guards see you sheltering LeBeau. Places, everyone, and try to look ferocious."

* * *

><p>A short time later, the shivering Newkirk was almost glad to see the familiar faces of Corporals Kohl and Zeller as they pushed their way into the clearing, where four dogs were growling in a most threatening fashion at Newkirk and two others were standing guard over LeBeau.<p>

Taking in the situation at a glance, Kohl snapped out an instruction to Zeller, who took off back toward the camp with Franz pulling him along. Kohl then leveled his rifle at Newkirk, who raised his hands in resignation.

Zeller returned not long after, with two more guards carrying a litter. They carefully put LeBeau on it, and the group of dogs and humans set off for the camp.

* * *

><p>At Luftstalag 13, Kommandant Klink was overjoyed at the return of the missing men, but he concealed his relief by berating Newkirk for his inexcusable behavior. Then LeBeau, who had regained some degree of consciousness by this time, moaned and Klink's attention switched to him.<p>

He adjusted his monocle, peering at the pitiful little figure on the litter. "This man needs medical attention."

_"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant,"_ said Schultz. "Shall we send him to the Lazarett at Stalag XIII-C?"

Klink drew back and glared at his hapless sergeant. "No! This prisoner will remain under Luftwaffe control. Take him to the hospital in Hammelburg, Sergeant Schultz, and arrange for a guard around the clock."

_"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant._ It shall be done."

Klink turned back to Newkirk, shaking his finger at him. "As for you, Corporal Newkirk...thirty days in the cooler is far too good for you. Thirty _years_ would be too good for you! Unfortunately, thirty days is all the Geneva Convention will allow. Take him away, Corporal Zeller."

* * *

><p>The dogs were returned to the pen, exhausted and footsore, but happy to have found the lost members of their flock in time.<p>

"That was close," said Friedrich, yawning.

"But they are both safe, that is the important thing," replied Franz.

Hildegard shook her head. "Somehow I still feel guilty for having to find them. It's almost like a betrayal."

"Not at all," insisted Bismarck. "We quite possibly saved their lives tonight."

"I know, but..."

Wolfgang sighed. "I understand what you mean. And I fear our plan to gain the prisoners' trust has suffered a setback."

* * *

><p>Peter found himself in solitary once more, with plenty of time to think about the ill-fated escape attempt. And when he emerged on a frozen January day, he found a smiling LeBeau waiting for him in Barracks 2. LeBeau's leg was still in a cast, but apparently he had fully recovered from his concussion.<p>

He wrinkled his nose and handed Peter a piece of soap, just as he had done on the occasion of their first meeting.

And Peter obediently went to wash off his prison dirt before he joined his little mate at the common room table.

"Good to see you, Louis."

"It is good to see you as well, _mon pote." _LeBeau leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. "And I have news - I overheard the doctors talking while I was at the hospital. Germany has declared war on the Americans, and they have now joined the Allies! It is good, _non?"_

"It's about bleedin' time, is what it is," Peter grumbled, although he was secretly very pleased indeed. Then he looked up at LeBeau. "Well, we mucked that one up, didn't we?"

LeBeau knew what was on his friend's mind. "Not 'we', Pierre...it was I who ruined it. You could have left me behind after I fell, and made your escape."

Peter thought about that for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, even if I'd been that sort of rotten bugger, I'd never 'ave made it. On our way back to the stalag we met a Gestapo patrol, and Corporal Kohl 'ad to do some fast talkin' to keep us in Luftwaffe custody."

"We could have been captured by the Gestapo? _Mon Dieu!_ Perhaps the dogs did us a favor after all."

Peter stared at him. "And that's another thing, Louis. When you were lyin' on the ground in the snow, lookin' for all the world as though you'd snuffed it, two of those bloody 'ounds lay down beside you."

The dark eyes grew wide. "They did?"

"That they did. It looked as though - I can't believe I'm sayin' this - they were tryin' to keep you warm, mate."

LeBeau beamed. "But of course! I have been trying to tell you, Pierre, the dogs are not to be feared."

"But that's not all, Louis. The black one sat down and offered to shake 'ands with me! And then the whole lot of 'em started to bark, but it wasn't until the stalag guards came that the ones shelterin' you jumped up, and then they all began to growl."

"Growling only when the guards were there, _c'est _ça_?"_

"As sure as I'm sittin' 'ere talkin' to you."

"Now where would the dogs have learned such a thing?" LeBeau said wonderingly. Then he met Peter's eyes and they said in unison:

"Schnitzer!"


	9. The London connection

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>London, February 1942<p>

In its brief eighteen months of existence, the obscure agency known as Special Operations Executive had received many strange requests. But it had never received a request quite like this one.

The two men seated in the modest little office in Baker Street looked at each other without speaking for a moment. Then the elder of the two looked down at the sheet of paper lying on the desktop between them, and flicked it with an incredulous finger.

"A resistance group…in Germany itself? Impossible."

"Not at all, sir. Apparently this isn't the only one, but they are the first to make contact with us."

"And they're operating out of…Hamburg, is it?"

"No, sir. Hammelburg."

"_Hammelburg?_ Where in the bloody hell is that?"

"Small town, about thirty kilometers west of Schweinfurt."

"Schweinfurt…where the ball bearing factories are?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm. And you believe this is a legitimate request, not one of those Jerry traps?"

"Yes, sir. The message was relayed to us by Moreau, from Brussels."

"One of the best, to be sure. And Moreau vouches for this group?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see. Well, let me look at this more thoroughly...this report states that they are looking for direction and assistance from Britain. They've provided some information on Wehrmacht troop movements - nice touch, that - and they have a number of industrial targets they'd like to sabotage. They say they want to help remove Hitler from power, and they are willing to support the Allied effort in order to do this."

"Yes, sir. They seem quite determined."

"Well, it couldn't hurt to investigate this. Most ordinary Germans are too frightened of reprisals to take any action against the Nazis, poor devils. If we can assist anyone who's willing to do it, we should."

"Shall we drop an agent in, sir?"

"Can't drop a man in by parachute right now…too risky for the aircraft, going that deeply into Germany. Have we anyone on the ground there?"

"Yes, but no one closer than Berlin, and he's involved in a rather sticky situation at the moment."

"What of the Yanks? Have they anyone operating in Germany itself?"

"Let me see...yes, they have one working out of Frankfurt am Main. Name's Olsen, I believe."

"Good enough. We'll have Mama Bear handle this, I think."

"Colonel Wembley's team, sir?"

"Yes, they seem to adapt well to unusual situations, and they have a good relationship with the Americans; they can contact this Olsen fellow and have him meet with the Hammelburg group."

"I'll notify them right away, sir."

"And check with those chaps at MI9, too, will you? Just think: if an escape line from within Germany itself could be set up..."

"It would be invaluable, sir. And there are bound to be plenty of downed airmen in Germany as the bombing campaign intensifies."

"Exactly. But remember: secrecy must have priority over every other consideration with this Hammelburg group, of course. They will be working against greater odds than we can possibly imagine."

….

Captain John Olsen, United States Army Intelligence, was used to working alone. Since his insertion into Nazi Germany a year ago, he had kept a low profile, kept to himself, and avoided even casual relationships with the people he met. He knew that every face on the street that he saw could possibly be concealing a Gestapo informant.

And his current role of petty bureaucrat with the Abwehr did nothing to increase his faith in human nature. Far too many of the reports that crossed his desk involved citizen reporting against citizen. But of course, he couldn't blame them. The indoctrination that the German people received was inescapable, and the consequences of falling afoul of what passed for law in this country were unspeakable.

So when he received a carefully coded message from his superior in London, he was startled and more than a little skeptical.

"Resistance group in Hammelburg requests SOE assistance. Investigate and liaise if indicated. Particulars to follow."

So SOE wanted him to be the go-between with them and this unknown German group. But a resistance group in Germany? Could such a thing even exist?

And when he received the details of SOE's plans for this group he was even more skeptical. Apparently SOE expected these poor people - members of a rigidly controlled society - to risk their lives by blowing up bridges and troop trains. Not only that, MI9 was hoping they could establish an escape line here as well; an equally dangerous occupation for resistance workers.

Not that he couldn't see the value in it. The British heavy bombers must have lost many men over Germany already. And the number of downed airmen in Germany would increase dramatically with the US beginning bombing missions as well.

But his native caution and his observation of the German people warned him that however desirable active resistance in Germany would be, it was highly unlikely. If anyone opposed the current regime, they were careful to keep it to themselves, other than a few religious leaders who had paid a high price for speaking out against the Nazis. Of course, he had to admit that the uniform he wore for his current assignment was hardly conducive to anyone confiding thoughts of insurrection to him.

But there was also the fact he was to contact this group by radio; it was enough to make him wonder. Radios were plentiful in Germany, it was true; Herr Goebbels had made certain of that – such a powerful propaganda tool was something that the Reich wanted to see in every German home. The _Volksempfänger_ was inexpensive and easily acquired – Olsen had one himself - and Herr Hitler's rants were all too easily heard on the state-controlled broadcasting system.

But these radios had limited range and did not possess shortwave capability, and in fact use of shortwave was banned in Germany. Each personal radio sold came with a tag attached to the dial, warning the public that listening to foreign broadcasts was a crime "punishable by prison and hard labor"…in a concentration camp, no doubt. And if this cheerful message wasn't enough, the dial was only marked with German radio stations. The Nazis obviously wanted no one to be listening to British or Russian broadcasts.

So how did these people in Hammelburg get their hands on a radio capable of receiving and transmitting shortwave signals? Olsen had no idea; regardless, he had been given specific instructions on how and when to contact the group.

And if this group was legitimate, SOE owed them every effort to help get their operation off the ground, however dangerous their mission might be. Olsen reflected that this Hammelburg group – Mother Goose, as designated by SOE - would have to be shrouded in such secrecy that probably no one would ever know about it, even long after the war had ended.

So he made the trip to Hammelburg, and after carefully checking out the area, he set up a rendezvous with Mother Goose for Thursday evening, outside an abandoned brewery on the fringe of town.

On Thursday he went off duty from his day job and hurried home to his tiny flat in Frankfurt. It would soon be time to leave for his Hammelburg rendezvous, and he had just enough time for his routine check-in with headquarters.

He turned on the set and put on the headphones. His eyes widened as he automatically groped for a pencil and pad of paper and wrote down the Morse code transcription. Then he tapped out a response, shut down the device, and stared at what he had just written. There was only one thought in his mind.

_Oh, crap!_

...

When Oskar Schnitzer received the mysterious summons to meet Max Schumann at his home, he was tense with anticipation. Max, through a trusted friend in Belgium, had established contact with a British agency in London, one that provided aid to resistance groups in the occupied countries.

But would this agency help Germans? Or would the British consider them a lost cause, and reject their request out of hand?

Max had reported that an agent was being sent to them by the British, and that the agent had contacted him by radio to arrange a face-to-face meeting.

And the meeting was for tonight. When Oskar told his family where he was bound for the evening, his father nodded with grim satisfaction.

"It is good. But you be careful, boy. We don't know what we're dealing with yet."

"_Ja," _said Maria. Her eyes were anxious. "I don't like the idea of you going to this meeting unarmed."

Oskar gave a short laugh. "Now, where would I get a gun? You know it is illegal for civilians to carry firearms."

His wife sighed. Then her eyes brightened. "At least take one of the dogs with you."

Sieglinde thumped her tail on the floor and looked expectantly at Oskar.

He looked down at her, frowning, and then smiled and reached down to scratch her ears. "Very well, Maria. I shall take Sieglinde, and she can bite the agent if he tries any false moves."

When Oskar and Sieglinde arrived at Max's cottage, Max looked askance at the thought of bringing a dog to the meeting, but conceded that an extra pair of eyes and ears might be helpful.

They arrived early at the rendezvous site and cautiously took up a vantage point where they could see without being seen. And now the three of them – Max, Oskar, and Sieglinde - hung back in the shadows as they watched the northeast corner of the abandoned brewery building. It lacked but a few minutes of the appointed time, and their tension was rising.

Then they saw a man appear around the corner of the building. He was briefly visible in the moonlight, and they could see he wore an RAF uniform.

"There he is," whispered Max. "Right on time."

_"Ja,"_ murmured Oskar, but his attention was caught by Sieglinde, who stiffened at his side. He placed a reassuring hand on her back, and felt her hackles rising, and the vibrations of an inaudible growl.

A cold breeze seemed to sweep over him, and he touched Max's sleeve to get his attention. Oskar jerked his head, indicating that they should retreat.

The three of them melted away, moving silently and keeping to the edge of the building until they reached the street. As they stepped onto the pavement Max turned as if to speak with Oskar, but then his face changed as he looked past Oskar, and he mouthed, "Hurry!"

As soon as they were on the public thoroughfare, they slowed their steps and assumed the casual attitude of two men out for an evening walk with their dog.

After they had covered a couple of blocks in a leisurely manner, Max turned his head to look at Oskar. "What was going on back there? As we left I could see two men in SS uniforms talking with our contact, and they seemed to be taking orders from him!"

Oskar was stunned at this new revelation and his blood ran cold again. "The Gestapo! Did they see us?"

Max shook his head. "I don't think so, they were moving off in the opposite direction. It is good we didn't approach that man! But how did you know?"

"I'm not sure…"

Oskar's low voice faded away as a tall figure approached them. As the man drew nearer, it could be seen that he wore the uniform of an Abwehr officer and Oskar's blood ran even colder. His hand tightened involuntarily on Sieglinde's leash, and he was thankful she refrained from growling at the man.

The officer looked at the two men and then down at Sieglinde, his face without expression as he held out his hand. "Papers, please."

Oskar's heart was pounding. The close call with the Gestapo, and now this! Things seemed to have gone from bad to worse...

* * *

><p><em>AN: Special Operations Executive (SOE) was an unconventional British agency established in 1940 shortly after the British Expeditionary Force was evacuated from Dunkirk, when it seemed Britain had no other capability of waging war. After a rocky start, the SOE made hundreds of air drops to resistance fighters in the occupied countries, providing trained agents and desperately needed supplies, with the intent of fostering guerrilla warfare on the Continent. MI9, a branch of British Military Intelligence established in 1939, provided the same services to resistance workers who maintained escape lines that enabled thousands of evaders (downed airmen who had avoided capture) and escapers (escaped POWs) to return to England._

_Alas, I can find no evidence of the existence of an organized German resistance group such as the underground as depicted on Hogan's Heroes. But since many documents pertaining to the activities of SOE and MI9 won't be declassified until 2045 - and maybe not even then - who knows? Maybe more went on in Germany than we will ever know. _


	10. Prince Charming

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is __truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>"Papers, please," the Abwehr officer repeated.<p>

The Doctor gave a small hand signal, and Sieglinde sat obediently at his feet. She tilted her head, regarding the officer confronting them.

He was a tall young man, probably about Kurt's age, she judged; much younger than Max and the Doctor. His face was impassive and his voice had been noncommittal, but Sieglinde had been taught by her mother and Wolfgang to look at humans with all her senses.

Long ago, when Sieglinde and her brothers were puppies, Wolfgang had told them that one could tell a Nazi by his smell. And that was true; the man in RAF uniform had reeked of it, as had the two other men hidden nearby. This man, however, did not smell of evil.

There was more to Sieglinde's observations than that, of course. The three men at the brewery had carried themselves in a way that reinforced the olfactory impression. Their attitude was one of arrogant self-assurance, as though they had nothing to fear; whereas Max, the Doctor, and their contact had everything to fear.

This man's posture and attitude was very different from the evil men she had sensed back at the brewery; to her mind he exuded an air of caution, certainly, but also an air of optimism and goodwill.

Of course, Max and the Doctor were unnerved by what they just avoided, and uncertain if this new man was dangerous. Sieglinde wished they could sense the man the way she did: as someone who was seeking to help them; as a potential friend.

But Max handed over his identity papers with commendable calm, and the officer scrutinized them carefully under the dim streetlamp.

"These would appear to be in order," he said, then added, "Not a bad evening for a stroll, is it? But it is odd that the crocuses have not appeared yet."

Max and the Doctor froze, and then Max replied shakily, "Not until the snow has left the ground."

The Abwehr officer handed back the identity papers with a slight smile. "Mother Goose? I am Prince Charming."

...

Later, at Max's cottage, Prince Charming looked around the small sitting room, and smiled as Sieglinde approached him, her tail wagging. "Beautiful," he said softly.

Sieglinde was pleased. She thought him a rather handsome human, as well, with kind eyes and a friendly smile.

He took his place at the table and looked around at his new acquaintances in a casual way, but Sieglinde thought that for all his easy-going appearance, this man had an air of watchfulness, as if he were poised for action at any moment. She approved of this; she thought with proper training he could have made a good guard dog.

Max placed a pan of water on the floor for Sieglinde, while the humans each had a beer and introductions were made. It turned out that the new human's real name was not Prince Charming after all; he told them his name was actually John Olsen.

"Call me John," he said. "Being addressed as Prince Charming makes me uncomfortable. Now, I've been temporarily assigned to your group to set up a secure radio connection with London, and to help map out some initial strategies for you. I understand you already have some goals in mind."

"I would like to communicate what I have been observing at Luftstalag 13," said the Doctor. "The Kommandant has many important visitors, and they often discuss things in the compound."

Olsen nodded. "That is how you learned of the Wehrmacht troop movements that you provided to London?"

"_Ja."_

Max's eyes gleamed. "I would like to see what we could do about sabotaging the Nazi war effort."

"And my nephew Kurt discovered a couple of downed British airmen a few days ago," said the Doctor. "He has been sheltering them at his farm, but of course we want to get these men back to England, so they can resume the fight against Hitler."

Olsen whistled, and said, almost to himself, "Amazing…so MI9 had the right idea, after all." Then he said to the two men, "Mama Bear will send you money, clothing, and identity papers for them, as well as arms, explosives, and portable two-way radios for your planned operations. Our first priority will be to establish radio contact with London, on a different frequency than the one I used to contact you for our meeting."

He cleared his throat and looked keenly at Max and the Doctor. "I'll get into that a little later, but forgive my curiosity: how did you come by a shortwave radio in the first place?"

The Doctor smiled. "Kurt built radios when he was a Boy Scout, before he was forced to join the Hitler Youth in 1933, and before the Reich's recall of all shortwaves forbade the activity. He has kept his own radio hidden for years, and he plans to adapt my _Volksempfänger _to send and receive shortwave signals."

"Where does he keep his radio?"

"Different places," replied Max. "We keep changing the location; we have heard that the Gestapo have radio detection trucks, and we don't want them to - how do you say it? - get a fix on the position. Today it is in this house, actually."

Olsen nodded slowly. "Very wise. In any case, as I mentioned, Mama Bear will be using a different frequency to contact you for instructions, and for arranging air drops of equipment and supplies. So, with your permission, I'd like to contact them now."

"Yes, of course."

Sieglinde watched with interest as Max got to his feet and went over to the bureau that stood against one wall. He shoved it aside to reveal a small alcove.

Olsen walked over to the alcove and surveyed the device neatly tucked inside. He reached out and touched the radio with appreciative fingers. "Kurt does nice work. Morse key and microphone, I see. Do you know Morse code, then?"

Max shook his head. "Only Kurt knows it as of now. But we shall learn."

Olsen nodded, and then pulled a chair close to the radio. He put the headphones over his ears and then reached for the Morse key. Wordlessly, the Doctor handed him a pad of paper and a pencil. Olsen smiled his thanks and turned on the set.

Sieglinde watched, fascinated, as the young man tapped out a message, and then listened intently. She edged closer and closer to his chair, until her nose almost touched the radio.

He looked down at her and smiled, and then his expression became intent again as he picked up the pencil and started to quickly jot down whatever it was he was listening to.

After a moment his expression became one of astonishment, and he put down the pencil and quickly began to tap again, a very short message this time. He listened for a long time after that, and he had to flip to another page on the pad of paper as he took notes.

Finally he sighed, tapped out an even shorter message, and shut down the set. He turned away from it, and faced his hosts.

"Well, remember how I said this was a temporary assignment for me? I spoke too soon; I've been ordered to terminate my assignment in Frankfurt and take up a new one - in Hammelburg."

Max and the Doctor exchanged glances, and then Max said, "But that is good, _ja? _You will be working with us?"

Olsen looked down at the notepad. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Mama Bear says the Allied High Command was so pleased with the troop movement information that you were able to obtain, Oskar, that they've decided they want a man on the inside - at Luftstalag 13."

Max frowned. "You will be this inside man? But how will you arrange that? Will you become one of the guards there?"

Olsen shook his head. "No, I'll be a prisoner."

Sieglinde looked up at him anxiously. She had not yet been assigned guard duty at the camp, and her active imagination conjured up all sorts of dangers for her new friend. She whined softly and Olsen reached down to pat her on the head.

"Your dog seems quite worried about me, Oskar."

The Doctor looked at him from under his bushy brows. "As am I, John. The life of a POW is not one to be envied."

Olsen gave a grin that made him look, all at once, very young and carefree. "I'll manage; I always do. And I'll figure out a way to slip out now and then to meet one of you to pass on the information I've learned." He got to his feet and pushed the bureau back into place, and then took his seat at the table again.

"As long as they don't discover your absence," said the Doctor. "Kommandant Klink takes great pride in the fact no one has ever successfully escaped from Luftstalag 13."

Olsen nodded. "The important thing is to be back for each roll call so I'll never be missed."

"You'll have to figure out a way to get assigned to the camp, though," warned Max.

"I think I know how," said the Doctor slowly. "Kommandant Klink goes out to the Hofbrau every Friday night, and comes back in the early hours of Saturday morning. You could show yourself on the Hammelburg road outside the camp when he is due to return. From what I know of him, if he succeeds in capturing you personally, he will see that as a feather in his cap, and make every effort to keep you at his camp."

"Sounds like a plan," said Olsen. "We'll go with that, once things are arranged here. Now, I'll need to go over some basic security precautions before you contact Mama Bear for your first air drop. Especially after what happened – or almost happened - tonight."

"You knew about that?" asked the Doctor. "You saw them - the Gestapo?"

"I was warned that the radio frequency I had used to arrange our meeting was compromised, and I feared that the Gestapo would be after you. I was glad I had not used the recognition codes during that transmission, but even so, if you had made contact with the man in RAF uniform..."

The Doctor said grimly, "We would have been caught by the Gestapo," and Sieglinde shivered.

Olsen sighed. "That's why I am in Abwehr uniform; I hoped to intervene if necessary, and if at all possible. I could see the fake RAF airman waiting, and I knew they had laid a trap for you, thinking you would believe that man was your contact." Olsen stopped for a moment, puzzled. "But how did you know not to approach him?"

Max looked at the Doctor. "I've been wondering that myself."

Sitting beside Olsen's chair, Sieglinde thumped her tail on the floor, and gave a soft woof.

All eyes turned to her, and the Doctor shrugged. "It is a strange thing; Sieglinde growled when she saw the man."

Max scratched his head. "I thought your dogs were trained to growl at German uniforms, not Allied uniforms."

"_Ja_, that is right," replied the Doctor.

"And she didn't growl at John, and he is wearing Abwehr uniform."

By this time, Sieglinde had her head on Olsen's knee. He stroked her ears and she sighed blissfully.

Olsen smiled. "Apparently Sieglinde was not fooled by the uniforms."

"_Ja,"_ the Doctor said thoughtfully. "Intelligent disobedience…"

The other two men looked at him. "What?"

"It's a term we use for guide dogs when they disobey a command that would lead a blind person into danger," he explained.

"But how did she know?" persisted Max.

"I think I see," Olsen said softly. "She sensed that the man in RAF uniform meant you harm. And she could tell that I don't pose a threat to you. You can tell the good guys from the bad guys, can't you, girl?"

Sieglinde smiled as only a dog can smile. He was pretty perceptive, for a human.


	11. A new perspective

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p><em>What a crazy war.<em>

Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe, better known to his fellow prisoners at Luftstalag 13 as Kinch, pondered his current situation. He had always prided himself on being adaptable, but just how much adapting could one guy do in a lifetime, anyway?

When he had joined the Tuskegee program, he had dreams of flying. And when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, he had felt sure he would be assigned duty in the Pacific.

The flying part came true, but not in the Pacific. Maybe he should be glad that at least he and some of his fellow airmen got the chance to go to England so early in the war. They had arrived in February, to join the Eighth Air Force as part of the mysterious 504th Bomb Group, whose assignment in the European theater was so secret that its unofficial motto was "We Were Never Here".

And he and his buddies did have a number of successful missions, until their B-17 was shot down two months ago.

So now here he was in July of 1942, his flying days over, wielding a shovel. Underground. In the toughest POW camp in all of Germany.

_What a crazy place. And I'm just as crazy as the rest of them here, I guess._

He looked at the small Frenchman who was digging alongside him, late at night when they should both have been in their bunks.

"Listen, Louis, just what are we trying to achieve here? Why the heck do we want to have a tunnel to the dog pen, anyway?"

LeBeau paused in his labors and eyed his assistant with some exasperation. "I have explained, _mon ami._ The dogs, they have been trained to protect us, I am certain of it. And the man who trained them, the veterinarian Schnitzer; he may have connections to the Resistance, you comprehend?"

Kinch sighed. "Yeah, I comprehend all right. But I still think it's a long shot."

LeBeau checked the string that marked their progress from the main tunnel. "We are almost directly beneath the pen," he murmured. Then he looked up at Kinch. "It is, as you say, a long shot perhaps. But what have we to lose? If we can send a message to Schnitzer, attached to the collar of a dog…"

"Then hopefully you'll have a way of communicating with the Resistance."

"But even if they are not able to help us escape, the tunnel may serve as a way for us to receive things that Schnitzer could bring! Such as parts to build a radio, perhaps."

"A radio..." Kinch was silent for a moment. A way to communicate with the outside world! His incarceration here would be so much easier to bear, if only he had access to the outside world. He began to dig with renewed enthusiasm.

As they braced the walls preparatory to excavating upward toward the surface, Kinch thought of something he'd been wondering about ever since he first met his fellow occupants of Barracks 2.

"What's the deal with Olsen, anyway?"

"He is a man of mystery, that one." LeBeau ducked a shower of dirt from overhead as he dislodged a rock. "He does not talk much, and he volunteers for work details."

"That's suspicious, all right," Kinch said, rolling his eyes.

"But there is more! Have you heard how he was captured?"

"No, he never mentioned it."

LeBeau leaned on his shovel and peered at Kinch in the dim light of the oil lamps. "The Kommandant encountered him wandering down the Hammelburg road one night, and captured him."

Kinch whistled. "No wonder he didn't mention it - kind of embarrassing, when you think about it. I wouldn't think Klink was capable of capturing anybody."

LeBeau climbed up on a box and started attacking the dirt overhead with his shovel. "And that is not all. Olsen leaves the barracks at night, have you noticed? He leaves after lights out, but he is always back by roll call."

"What does he do out there all night?"

"We do not ask," said LeBeau. "And he does not tell."

"Hmm." Kinch cleared away some rocks and wedged another brace. "So that's why he isn't down here slaving away with us? You don't trust him?"

LeBeau shrugged. "I do not know what to think."

"And yet you trusted me, pretty much on sight."

"But of course! You are obviously not…" LeBeau stopped, embarrassment evident on his expressive face.

Kinch finished the sentence for him. "I'm obviously not German, so you don't have to worry if I'm a plant or not. Listen, it's okay. But you realize that's also the reason I won't be able to join you when you make your escape."

The Frenchman lowered his shovel and stared at Kinch in consternation. _"Merde!"_

"Exactly." Kinch began chipping away again at the soil overhead. "But if I can help you and Newkirk and whoever get the hell out of this place, it's okay by me."

After that, the only sound in the tunnel was of shovels scraping against the earth, until a dull _clunk_ was heard.

Kinch and LeBeau looked up into the darkness.

"It must be the bottom of one of the doghouses, _non?"_

"_Non," _said Kinch. "I mean, yes, it must be…wait a minute, where're you going?"

He watched as LeBeau darted down the tunnel and presently brought back a rough ladder. LeBeau angled the ladder into the hole they had made overhead, and climbed upward. His voice was muffled as he said, "If I push upwards a very small amount…"

"Here, let me help you." Kinch used the handle of his shovel to push up as well. The doghouse was heavier than he had anticipated, but it lifted slightly and he heard LeBeau smother an exclamation.

"What is it?"

"A little higher…_sacre chats!"_

"What? What?" Kinch was getting nervous.

"There is a dog, he is right there!"

"Can you reach his collar?"

"_Un moment…_no, no, he is backing away, and conferring with another dog."

"Conferring with…? What the heck?"

"_De quoi? Zut!"_

LeBeau backed down the ladder a lot faster than he had gone up, followed by a large furry form.

Kinch was so surprised that he stood motionless, still supporting the doghouse above with the end of his shovel. Recollecting himself, he lowered the shovel and allowed the doghouse to settle back in place.

He and LeBeau stood there in the tunnel, staring at the German shepherd who sat at their feet regarding them placidly, his tongue lolling.

"Well, don't waste time, Louis!" Kinch said, when he found his voice. "Attach the message to his collar."

LeBeau knelt down by the dog and removed his collar. "But observe!" he cried. "The dog has a name on his collar...he is Fritzi."

"Good boy, Fritzi," said Kinch, as LeBeau clipped the neatly folded message to the collar and replaced the collar around the dog's neck. "I just hope you can climb back up that ladder." He raised the doghouse again cautiously and the dog scampered back up the ladder and through the opening.

Kinch lowered the doghouse again and stared at LeBeau. "I saw it, but I don't believe it."

LeBeau gave him an angelic smile that contrasted oddly with the smudges of dirt on his face. "What is there to doubt? The dogs, they are here to help us."

…

The next evening, a very surprised and somewhat perturbed Oskar Schnitzer took two dogs along with him to visit Max Schumann.

Bismarck and Wolfgang were both on leave, with Friedrich and Hans taking their places on the team, so they were the ones allowed to make the trip. They settled down onto the hearthrug in Max's parlor and watched as the two humans greeted each other.

At the table, the Doctor and Max examined the note the Doctor had discovered attached to Fritzi's collar.

"It says it is from the prisoners of Luftstalag 13," said Max. "How did they have contact with the dog, and how did they know you would look at his collar?"

"I examine each one of the dogs for illness and injury every time I visit the Luftstalag," said the Doctor. "The prisoners must have noticed that. But I don't know how they had contact with the dog. And the note is written in German," he added. "The only prisoner we know who understands German is John."

"And he would not send such a note. Why, we saw him only three days ago."

"It looks as though there is a great deal going on at the camp that the other prisoners are not sharing with John."

"Perhaps he suspects they are up to something, but does not want to risk exposing their activities. Or his," Max said, rubbing his chin.

"Or ours," said the Doctor. "A very difficult position for John to be in, and risky for everyone. But we cannot ignore this appeal."

"So what do we do?" Max asked, and the two men stared at the note again, unaware of the dogs' intense interest in their conversation.

The two dogs looked at each other and shook their heads.

"What we've got here is a failure to communicate," mused Bismarck. "Pity the humans can't talk to each other about their plans; it would save so much trouble."

"Yes, but I can understand why Olsen did not confide what he is doing to the other prisoners," said Wolfgang. "He doesn't want them to run the same risks he does."

"Perhaps they should be given the choice, don't you think? Think of all the clandestine activity the prisoners are already involved in."

"True," said Wolfgang. "And they're not confiding in Olsen, either, from what I have observed. They don't trust him yet, precisely because he is so secretive."

"That's a shame; he's a good fellow. Sieglinde seems quite taken with him."

"Yes; I think she yearns for a human of her very own."

"Don't we all?" Bismarck smiled. "But you and I, we were fortunate to have had humans of our own."

"And lost them," said Wolfgang bitterly.

"Yes." Bismarck was quiet for a moment. "It was difficult at first for me. There is something so unnatural, so _wrong_ about outliving one's human."

"And you still miss your human, don't you?"

"Always," said Bismarck. "But it no longer hurts to remember her." He paused, and then added, "I knew when she passed on. It happened about a week after I joined all of you at the Schnitzers'."

"You knew? How did you know?"

"I just knew. One morning I woke up and I knew she was gone."

Wolfgang said quietly, "I never had that feeling about my family…Tommy and his parents."

Bismarck scratched his ear. "Well, it's a very unscientific observation, of course, but perhaps you never had that feeling because they are still alive."

"I am afraid to hope for that," Wolfgang confessed.

"Never hurts to hope, old chap."

"I suppose." Wolfgang wondered sadly if he would ever know for certain what had happened to his family. He pushed the thought away, and stretched out with his head on his paws. "You know, I've been thinking: the prisoners want to escape, and are busy formulating plans, but they have scant chance of succeeding, this far from their homes."

"I know that has been worrying you," said Bismarck. "The next attempt might not end well."

Wolfgang narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "And Olsen has to report what he learns to his superiors, but he has only one set of ears and eyes to observe with."

Bismarck nodded. "He could use some help there."

"And Max, the Schnitzers and their friends are off to a good start, but there really isn't a sufficient number of them to achieve the results they want."

"And just think of all that manpower going to waste at Luftstalag 13," Bismarck said.

Wolfgang raised his head and stared at him. "What they need is a strong alpha male to take charge."

"You're right," replied Bismarck. "Someone who is able to see the big picture, and put all the pieces together."

Then they both chuckled ruefully; what human would be capable of achieving such a feat?

Little did they know that just such a human was at that moment flying an Allied bomber over Hamburg, never suspecting what fate had in store for him...


	12. Enter Hogan

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Oberursel, Germany<p>

August 1942

"Of course, we know all about you, Colonel Hogan."

Colonel Robert E. Hogan, lately commander of the 504th Bomb Group, nodded in a bored fashion. Two weeks of enduring solitary confinement in the not-so-hospitable cooler at Dulag Luft provided an unlucky Allied airman with many new experiences, and one of these was mind-numbing boredom. In fact, the intensive interrogation sessions were the only things Hogan had to look forward to. Those, and the twice-daily meals of black bread and unidentifiable soup shoved through a slot in the door of his dismal cell.

He wished they'd get on with things and send him to a POW camp so he could get on with his life. So he'd been captured: big deal. According to the Krauts, for him the war was over.

But there's always a Plan B, he told himself. For him, the war was not over. Not by a long shot.

His interrogator sighed and tried again. "We know everything about you, Colonel Hogan. I have shown you pictures and described your bomb group in minute detail. I know that you graduated from West Point in 1929, that you were a Regular Army officer until you entered the Aviation Cadet program as an officer student, where you graduated third in your class in 1937."

Hogan examined his nails. "Is that a fact?"

_Holy crap, they know more about me than I do. Maybe somebody talked, like this guy keeps telling me, but my guess is the Krauts have been monitoring our radio transmissions. I told my CO those hokey codes we'd been using were worthless!_

Major Duerr continued, "So you must understand when I tell you that it is futile to attempt to conceal information from us."

_Doesn't matter what they already know; I'm not going to add to it. Name, rank and serial number; that's all they're going to get. _

"Gee, Major, I really don't have anything to say. But you go right ahead – maybe I'll learn something."

Major Duerr's already grim mouth tightened; what he would have said next might well have been unbecoming to a German officer, but fortunately a knock fell on the door, and he turned his head.

"_Herein!"_

An anxious underling entered the room and said something in a low voice to Duerr. The interrogator turned pale, and without saying anything further to Hogan, gathered up his files and hurried from the room.

Hogan's hearing was acute, and his German was excellent; attributes which he naturally chose not to reveal to his captors. And from what he had just heard, apparently a certain _Oberst _Burkhalter had arrived, and was demanding to see the prized American prisoner. The _Oberst _was most upset, and wanted to know why he had not been notified earlier of Colonel Hogan's presence at the interrogation center.

_Now, this is an interesting development. Wonder who this Burkhalter character is?_

A few minutes later a nearly spherical shape squeezed its way through the doorway, and Hogan found himself in the presence of Colonel Albert Burkhalter of the General Staff. He got to his feet and saluted, and the Colonel returned his salute before dropping onto the chair opposite, which creaked alarmingly at the unusual punishment.

"Sit down, Colonel Hogan. I trust you have found your accommodations here satisfactory?"

Hogan resumed his seat, and then tilted his head and gave the matter some thought. "Compared to what, sir? If you're trying to drum up some tourists for_ Deutschland_ the Beautiful, you're going about it the wrong way."

Burkhalter was not amused. "That is precisely the problem, Colonel Hogan. Tourists such as you we do not need. But we can hardly return you to England, can we?"

Hogan sighed. "No, I guess not, but I sure wish you would….May I ask why your interest in me, Colonel Burkhalter? That's not a Luftwaffe uniform you've got on."

"I oversee the prisoner of war camps for the Third Reich," Burkhalter informed him coldly. "And that includes the Luftstalags. When I heard that an American Air Force colonel had been captured, naturally I wanted to assure myself that he remained a prisoner."

"Naturally."

"Of course, you are not the first American airman we have captured, Colonel Hogan."

"Aw, shucks. Seems like I'm always late to the party." Hogan's tone was light, but his thoughts were somber.

_Yeah, there's been plenty of us shot down already. The Tuskegee bomber crew that was lost in May…did any of them survive to be captured? I shudder to think of how these damned members of the Master Race might have treated them. And what of the crew from my plane…what happened to them?_

Burkhalter ignored Hogan's airy persiflage, and continued, "But you are the highest ranking American airman that we have encountered. No doubt we shall see many more, but at the moment you present a bit of a problem."

Hogan's eyebrows went up. "Problem, sir?"

"Yes." Burkhalter steepled his fingers and assumed a thoughtful expression. "If I send you to Luftstalag III, I fear the British officers there will have a detrimental influence on you. They seem always to be plotting escapes."

"That _is_ a shame, sir."

Burkhalter leaned forward with a singularly unpleasant smile on his face. "No matter. I have a much more appropriate place to house you, Colonel Hogan. A camp not so very far from here, where I shall be able to monitor your activities personally. A camp with a reputation of which you may already be aware. A camp which has never had a successful escape. The toughest POW camp in all of Germany…Luftstalag 13!"

Hogan shrugged; he'd never heard of the joint. In any case, it mattered not to him where he was sent; the result would be the same.

_I've got news for you, pal. The toughest POW camp in all of Germany is about to have its first escape._

…

The VIP treatment started even before he left Dulag Luft. Hogan was handcuffed, shackled, and put into a prisoner transport truck guarded by four Luftwaffe soldiers.

But at least there weren't any of those damned German shepherds on board. Although he was normally a dog lover, Hogan had rapidly changed his opinion once he saw the vicious brutes used to patrol Dulag Luft.

The absence of dogs was about the only positive thing about the journey. The ride was uncomfortable enough, and it took a little over two hours; each mile carried him deeper into Germany and farther from England and his command with the 504th. And he had plenty of time to wonder about this escape-proof camp he was headed for.

As they finally rolled through the gates of Luftstalag 13, the first sight of the camp was something of an anti-climax. This conglomeration of barbed wire and wooden shacks, out in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by woods, was escape-proof? Hogan knew there had to be a catch somewhere.

The barracks buildings were flush with the ground; no way for the Krauts to ferret out tunnels by crawling beneath. And the woods were ridiculously close.

What was with this place, anyway? At first glance, from his vantage point in the back of the truck, Hogan figured Luftstalag 13 was a would-be escaper's dream come true.

But he was no fool, and he was prepared to carefully assess his new situation before he made his move. He sat quietly as his leg shackles were removed, and then his guards assisted him to alight from the truck.

As he stood in the oddly empty compound, Hogan looked around, mentally taking stock of his surroundings and considering the possibilities.

True, the camp had the obligatory double fence, but the fence looked remarkably flimsy to Hogan's appraising eye. There were watchtowers, but surely not enough to monitor the entire perimeter, he thought.

There was a full complement of guards assembled to welcome him…except they appeared to be, on the whole, elderly, disabled or half-witted.

And, of course, there were dogs.

Ah yes, the dogs. There were three of them present at his arrival; big, healthy, fierce-looking German shepherds, just like the ones at Dulag Luft. Hogan regarded them with a jaundiced eye, and they returned his gaze with a cool consideration that was just a bit unnerving. They seemed to be irritable, too, and prone to snarling at the least little movement the guards made. The poor guards handling the beasts seemed scarcely capable of controlling them, and Hogan wondered uneasily what would happen if one of the dogs made a lunge for him.

Fortunately, none of them did.

The sergeant of the guard, a middle-aged man of impressive height and even more impressive girth, dealt briskly with the formalities involved in the transfer of the prisoner. Once these were concluded, Hogan's handcuffs were removed, and the Dulag Luft guards got back in their truck and were on their way.

Hogan watched them go, and then looked at the Sergeant with friendly interest. "Hi there. I'm the famous Colonel Hogan. Who might you be?"

The Sergeant responded with an unexpectedly sweet smile. "I am Sergeant Schultz, and I am not famous at all. Welcome to Stalag 13, Colonel Hogan."

"Well, Sergeant Schultz, now that I'm safely here, do you think you could dismiss the dogs? They're looking at me as though they didn't get breakfast today."

Schultz assured Hogan that the dogs had not missed their breakfast. "They are fed twice a day, and very well too. You do not need to be afraid of them." His own nervous glance at the dogs belied his statement, though, and Hogan could only be glad that Schultz dismissed the dogs and their handlers at once.

But just as the handlers led the dogs away, the largest dog looked back at Hogan and their eyes met for a moment. Hogan felt a prickling on the back of his neck.

_Get hold of yourself…they're just dogs! But that big one has "I'll be keeping my eye on you, buddy" written all over his face._

He gave himself a mental shake and turned back to Schultz. "Well, where are all the prisoners? Or am I your only guest?"

"Our only guest? Oh, no, Colonel Hogan, that is not true at all. It is just that the prisoners are restricted to barracks this afternoon, on orders of the Kommandant."

Hogan pondered that for a moment; so the Kommandant didn't want the prisoners to witness his arrival, huh? It told him a fair bit about the man in charge. "I see. Well, take me to your leader."

"This way, Colonel Hogan." Schultz led the way to a barren building with a sign that proclaimed "Kommandantur", and he held the door open for Hogan to enter.

…

Meanwhile, Wolfgang, Fritzi, and Bismarck were returned to the dog pen. The others, who had been dozing in the shade of the doghouses, gathered round to hear about the new arrival.

"Well?" Frieda prompted.

"I'm not sure," Wolfgang said. "This one certainly bears close watching."

"How do you figure, Wolfgang?" asked Fritzi.

"He is different from the others. I believe he has his own agenda, and the determination to carry it out, whatever it is."

"He seemed to be considered rather important by the guards who brought him," observed Bismarck. "No other prisoner has arrived chained as he was, and with so many guards attending."

"True," Wolfgang nodded. "It would be interesting to hear the conversation the new prisoner is having with the Kommandant right now."

He sighed. The dogs' hearing was sharp compared with that of mere humans, but even they could not pick up a conversation behind closed doors at this distance. Well, that couldn't be helped, but he needed more information about this Colonel Hogan. He thought for a moment, and then said firmly, "Tonight, and every night from now on, two of us will reconnoiter the compound, right after foot patrol with the guards. Hans, you and Fritzi will go tonight, and report back to me anything you see or hear."

Frieda looked at him inquiringly. "What do you think they might find out?"

Wolfgang shrugged. "No idea yet. But all of my instincts tell me that the presence of Colonel Hogan will change everything."


	13. Questions

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Colonel Wilhelm Klink cast an anxious glance around his tidy office, and tried to imagine how an enemy officer might view it. Was it sufficiently businesslike? Would Colonel Hogan be impressed by the atmosphere of Teutonic efficiency? He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dusted his desktop again.<p>

He was all aflutter because this particular enemy officer was very important indeed; Colonel Burkhalter had made that painfully clear. But Klink didn't need threats of a future career on the Russian front to make him worry about the responsibility of this new prisoner; he was plenty worried already.

Certainly, his stalag had a perfect no-escape record. But would that record remain intact with an officer in camp? He could feel his anxiety rising, even as he looked forward to having someone of his own rank to talk with. He glanced wistfully at the chess set occupying the small table in the corner. _Maybe Colonel Hogan plays chess._

At any rate, he was prepared to greet the man with all the respect due his rank. Klink polished his monocle one last time, and peeked at the small wall mirror to make sure what hair he had left was neatly combed. There! He was ready, and from the murmurings in the outer office, it was apparent Colonel Hogan had arrived.

A few moments later Sergeant Schultz announced the new prisoner. "If you please, _Herr Kommandant,_ this is Colonel Hogan."

Klink rose from his desk and drew himself to his full height. "Thank you, Schultz. Dis-missed!" After the Sergeant lumbered back through the door and closed it behind him, the American stepped up to the desk and saluted.

"Hogan, Robert E., Colonel, United States Army Air Corps, 0876707, reporting for incarceration, sir."

Klink gazed at his new prisoner for a moment. Why, the man was not intimidating at all! About his own height and weight but at least a decade younger, and with a full head of hair, too. Klink unconsciously smoothed the hair at the back of his head, and said gruffly, "I am Colonel Klink, Kommandant of Luftstalag 13, Colonel Hogan. You have been brought to the toughest prison camp in all of Germany!"

The American regarded him with bright-eyed interest. "So I've been told. They say no one's escaped from your little resort here; that's quite an accomplishment, I'd say."

Klink smiled with satisfaction. "It is indeed; I am so glad you appreciate that fact, and you would do well to remember it. Please sit down, Colonel Hogan."

"Thanks." Hogan tossed his cap on the desk and took a seat facing Klink. "I gotta tell you, Kommandant, I was shaking in my shoes on the way here, just thinking about this place!"

Klink's smile became ever so slightly condescending. "No need to be frightened, my dear Colonel Hogan. As long as you obey the rules and regulations, there is nothing to fear. After all, for you the war is over!"

The American's jaw seemed to tighten for a moment, but then his face relaxed into a smile. "Don't remind me, Kommandant! But tell me, just how have you managed to ride herd on your prisoners? There must have been a few attempted escapes."

Klink waved a hand in magnificent unconcern. "There were a few, yes; they have tried, but failed miserably. This camp remains escape-proof, due to my superior organizational abilities and unceasing vigilance, and of course our team of ferocious guard dogs." He adjusted his monocle and peered at the prisoner. "You have seen our guard dogs?"

The smile vanished from Hogan's face. "We've met."

"Then you realize it is in your own best interest to avoid any encounters with them, Colonel Hogan. Believe me, I avoid them myself!" Klink leaned forward and added in a low tone, "The dogs are killers!"

There was a definite frown on Hogan's face now. "Killers? Of prisoners?"

"Of course not!" Klink said indignantly. "Well, not yet, anyway. As long as the prisoners stay put and do as they are told, no one will be hurt, I assure you!" He noted with relief the lessening of Hogan's frown, and added, "Your presence here should certainly help the prisoners to remain safe, Colonel Hogan, as you will be their Senior POW Officer."

Hogan's eyebrows went up. "Who held that exalted position before me?"

"No one, as it happens. So I am expecting great things of you, Colonel Hogan!"

"I'll do my best, Kommandant," Hogan murmured.

"Very good. I'll have Schultz take you to your quarters now. Schultz!"

The office door opened cautiously and the sergeant of the guard stuck his head around the edge of it. _"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant?"_

"Take Colonel Hogan to his new quarters in Barracks 2. Dis-missed!"

Hogan got to his feet and gave Klink a brisk salute. He followed Schultz out the door, closing it gently behind him.

Klink watched him go and nodded to himself.

_Nice fellow, that Colonel Hogan. Quite reasonable, and so pleasant and polite...I like him, I really do. And I'm glad I assigned him quarters in Barracks 2; he can keep an eye on those two hooligans, Newkirk and LeBeau. It is good that he's here, I think…but what happens now? _

* * *

><p>Barracks 2 was all abuzz, and Kinch, the unofficial barracks chief, had to raise his voice to be heard.<p>

"Have we got all the stuff cleared from the back room? The new officer should be here soon."

"Cleared out, mate, but 'ow did we get the honor of 'aving an officer on the premises?" Newkirk was disgruntled. "And a bloody Yank, at that! No offense, Kinch."

Kinch shrugged. "None taken. And I have no idea why an officer is coming here."

Louis shook his head. He was inclined to agree with Newkirk: officers, in his experience, were more trouble than they were worth. But he had a more serious concern. "If he IS an officer," he said darkly.

Kinch raised an eyebrow. "You think this guy might be a plant?"

Louis shrugged. "What would you? We have managed very well without officers so far, _non?"_

"Well, yeah, I guess so, but…"

"And now, most unexpectedly, the _Bosches_ decide we need one. So they bring in _un fraudeur…_a, a, how do you say it?"

"A fake. An impostor." Kinch stroked his mustache thoughtfully.

"_Oui._ And how shall we know the truth?"

"He is right!" Minsk finished sweeping out the new officer's quarters and set his broom in the corner. "We should ask him questions."

"Like what?" Newkirk scoffed. "Such as who won the ruddy World Series?"

"We could try that, I guess," replied Baker. "Except I never bothered to keep up with that stuff myself."

"Me neither," said Kinch. "I know the Tigers won in '35, but I lost track after that."

Olsen smiled slightly, but said nothing, and Louis reflected that Olsen seldom offered an opinion in this very opinionated group.

"What if…" Louis began, but was interrupted by the barracks door opening, and Sergeant Schultz bellowing _"Achtung!"_

He stood aside, and a man in his mid-thirties walked in.

Broughton gasped, "It's the Old Man!" and almost at the same moment, Kinch's voice rang out: _"TEN-HUT!"_

All of the barracks residents jumped to their feet and stood at attention, and Louis looked curiously at the newcomer. The Old Man? He did not look that old. And then he realized something: Broughton and Kinch must know this man, and Baker too…they all had wide grins on their faces.

Sergeant Schultz, noting their reaction as well, smiled. "Boys, this is your new Senior Prisoner of War Officer, Colonel Hogan. You will make him welcome, _ja?"_

"I'm sure they will, Sergeant Schultz." The new officer nodded his thanks, and Schultz departed.

Colonel Hogan came into the room and looked around at all the Barracks 2 residents. "At ease, men." Then his gaze fixed on Kinch as though he couldn't believe his eyes.

"You were under my command…Kinchloe, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Of the 125th Squadron."

Hogan nodded, a shadow crossing his face. "You were in the crew that was shot down in May."

"Yes, sir. Five of us here at Stalag 13."

"And your officers?"

"Didn't survive, sir."

The American colonel sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that." Then he looked at Kinch keenly. "The Krauts been treating you fellas okay?"

"As good as they treat anyone here," Kinch admitted.

Newkirk interjected, "Which ain't sayin' much, beggin' your pardon, sir."

Hogan looked around to see who had made the comment, and then smiled. "Sergeant Kinchloe, I believe it's time you introduced the rest of the men."

While Kinch was doing the honors, Louis caught Newkirk's eye and Newkirk shrugged. Louis knew exactly what the British airman was thinking.

_It is all very well that Kinch and the others can vouch for this Colonel Hogan. But he is still an officer, and an American one at that. What will this mean for our escape plans?_

_Merde alors! What happens now?_

* * *

><p>The next day, Oskar Schnitzer brought Bruno and Hildegard to camp, to take over for two dogs who were due for a few days leave. As he climbed out of the truck, he spotted a new prisoner, an officer clad in a American leather jacket and wearing a cap rakishly tipped on the back of his head. The officer stood at a distance, watching Oskar with his arms folded and a faint smile on his face.<p>

Schultz, who was supervising Oskar's visit as he usually did, tried to make conversation. Oskar responded as he usually did, with gruff monosyllables, all the while watching the officer covertly.

Schultz noticed the American as well, and remarked to Oskar, "That is our new prisoner, an American officer named Colonel Hogan! And a very nice man, too."

Oskar grunted in reply, but Schultz continued on, lowering his voice confidentially. "It is good the prisoners have a senior officer now, is it not? Perhaps he will keep an eye on their monkey business."

Oskar looked at Schultz sharply. _Monkey business?_

The Sergeant became aware of his sudden interest, and backtracked in a hurry. "But that is nothing! Nothing! Are you done with the dogs, then?"

Feigning indifference once more, Oskar shook his head. He unhurriedly released Bruno and Hildegard in the pen, and went round all the dogs, checking them for signs of illness or injury. Satisfied that all was well, he reached for Wolfgang's collar. To his surprise, Wolfgang backed away, and jerked his head in the direction of the watching American.

Oskar looked at the American officer and then back at the dog, who stared at him intently. He decided to leave Wolfgang, even though it was his turn for time off from the camp. He clipped the leash to Hans's collar instead, and then clipped a second leash to Friedrich's collar. As he led the two out of the dog pen, an anxious Schultz followed.

"You will not tell the big shot what I said about the monkey business, _bitte?"_

Correctly interpreting the term "big shot" to mean Colonel Klink, Oskar muttered, _"Nein, nein!_ I do not even know what you are talking about."

A relieved Schultz smiled as Oskar put Friedrich and Hans into the back of the truck. _"Danke, Herr Doktor! Auf Wiedersehen!"_

_"Wiedersehen."_ Oskar climbed into the truck and started it up.

The guards at the gates waved him through, scarcely glancing at the truck, and Oskar was left to ponder Schultz's unwary revelation. This, on top of the message he had found attached to Fritzi's collar not long ago, gave him plenty of food for thought.

But what came to mind first was this: _A new officer! There will be big changes soon, I think. What happens now?_

* * *

><p>Back at the dog pen, Wolfgang watched as Colonel Hogan looked around cautiously, and then approached the pen.<p>

"Nice doggies," he said ingratiatingly as he sidled closer.

The dogs looked at each other, and then at Wolfgang.

Wolfgang said, "He's trying to make friends, I think. This is a very good opportunity to learn about him, so let's all look as non-threatening as we can. Fritzi, keep an eye out for the guards."

"_Jawohl, _Wolfgang." Fritzi trotted over to the gate, where he could watch from all directions.

The group assumed nonchalant attitudes: Bruno rolled over on his back, all four paws in the air, and Bismarck sat down and yawned. Frieda and Hildegard started a game of tug-of-war with a bone, and Franz batted at an imaginary butterfly with his paw.

Wolfgang walked over to the wire wall of the enclosure and watched as the Colonel came near. He was about to sit up and beg (even though normally such an action was beneath his dignity), when Fritzi woofed, "Schultz coming!"

Wolfgang sighed inwardly, but immediately switched to ferocious guard dog mode. The others followed suit, barking and snarling, with Bruno going so far as to fling himself against the wall of the enclosure.

The Colonel, understandably unnerved, backed off, almost colliding with Schultz, who was bent on rescuing him from the vicious dogs.

"Oh, Colonel Hogan, you mustn't go near the dogs! They are not friendly, not even to me!"

The Colonel looked back at the dog pen. "Yeah, I can see that. Don't worry, I'll steer clear from now on."

Wolfgang watched him go with a sense of frustration.

_An opportunity lost! What happens now?_


	14. A close encounter

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Back and forth, from the delousing station to the recreation hall, from the motor pool to the Kommandantur, Colonel Robert Hogan spent almost every waking hour walking the compound of Luftstalag 13.<p>

It wasn't idle exercise; it was a necessity for him. After two weeks of solitary confinement at Dulag Luft, the subsequent two weeks outdoors at his new residence helped him regain his equilibrium. And reaffirmed Plan B in his mind.

Somehow, some way, he was going to get back into the war. Somehow, some way, he was going to get back to England, and resume command of his bomb group.

And that meant that he had to get out of this place.

Hogan knew as well as anyone the urgency of the situation. The war was not going well for the Allies in mid-1942, and the only hope of breaking Germany's grip on Europe lay with the combined effort of the RAF and the fledgling American Eighth Air Force.

He _had_ to get back to his command with the 504th. But Hogan knew in order to successfully escape back to England, he would need every scrap of information he could get about his current situation.

So he systematically studied every aspect of life at the camp, from Klink on down.

From close observation, he had the entire layout of the camp fixed in his memory, and he had a pretty good idea of the guards' routine. But he needed to know more.

And he decided to use his most potent skill: the gift of gab.

The ability to sweet-talk the birds out of the trees was a family characteristic, used to great effect most notably by his Uncle Harold, who, prior to settling down and changing his ways, had been a part-time traveling salesman and full-time con artist.

"Rob," Uncle Harold had once told him, "what you do is, you get a person to talk, and then you pay attention. That's the important part, kid. Pay attention, and sooner or later you'll find out everything you need to know."

So he talked with everyone at Luftstalag 13, with a friendly, persuasive manner that few could resist. He talked with guards, other prisoners, visitors, even Colonel Klink. Especially Colonel Klink.

Hogan thought about some of those conversations as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and hunched his shoulders against the chill air. It was amazing how much information he had obtained from the Germans without even trying.

Private Kurtz had informed him yesterday that the first week of September was usually not this cold in this part of Germany. Kurtz was a nice young fellow with two small daughters, a brother serving with the occupation forces in Norway, and the same underlying fear of going to the Russian front that was shared by all the Germans in camp, Klink included.

And Schultz, of course, was more than happy to talk. All Hogan had to do was smile and look interested. In Schultz's case, the issue was clear. All he wanted was a quiet life, with plenty of strudel and no unpleasant surprises.

Klink was easy to read, too. Here was a man who was clearly lacking in self-esteem. What he craved was admiration, but what he really needed was reassurance that he was a competent human being. And Hogan had no compunction about supplying that reassurance, however false it might be.

Hogan thought deferring courteously to the Kommandant was a small price to pay for earning his confidence. Under the influence of Hogan's friendly conversation, Klink might drop all sorts of information that might come in useful once Hogan decided to make his move and get the hell out of Dodge.

Yes, he'd certainly done his best to establish friendly relations with the Germans in camp, especially Klink's secretary, the lovely _Fräulein _Helga...not that he'd had much opportunity to chat with her as yet.

He'd even tried to approach the dogs, but apparently they were immune to the Hogan charm. Hogan would not repeat that mistake; their sudden switch to savage behavior as he had come close to the dog pen had almost given him a heart attack. He glanced over at the pen now and shuddered.

_Damn Jekyll-and-Hyde mutts! __First they acted friendly, then they looked like they wanted to kill me...especially that big one, the one who gave me the evil eye the first day I got here. Well, they suckered me once, but it won't happen again. _

Hogan nodded to two POWs from Barracks 3 who were strolling by. And here was another issue…being the only officer in an enlisted men's camp.

Hogan had quickly dispelled any expectations that his fellow prisoners might have had regarding strict adherence to military protocol. He'd told them, "Look, fellas, we live in close quarters here, and you'll drive me up the wall if you keep coming to attention and saluting all the time. Save it for the parade ground, okay?"

He wasn't entirely casual, though. He expected the men to address him as "sir" or "Colonel"...he was their commanding officer, after all.

And therein lay the rub. He was their commanding officer with all the responsibilities that entailed, and that little fact collided head on with Plan B.

He already had a command…the 504th Bomb Group, back in England. That was where he needed to be, not sitting out the war here with these unfortunate men. They'd managed without an officer so far, hadn't they?

Hogan thought about that for a minute. Who acted as advocate for the prisoners? It was apparent Klink adhered to the Geneva Convention, thank God, but the lives of these men could be made easier if someone had the authority to negotiate for better conditions for them…

Hogan shook off that thought. There was a war on, and Plan B was paramount. He finished his circuit of the compound and decided to walk back to Barracks 2.

* * *

><p>In the barracks a few minutes later, Hogan was surprised to receive an invitation to play chess with Colonel Klink, conveyed by a puzzled Sergeant Schultz.<p>

"_Bitte, _Colonel Hogan, you will accept, won't you? It would make the big shot very happy." Schultz shook his head. "But why you should want to make the big shot happy, I do not know."

Hogan's eyes twinkled. "Relax, Schultz. Playing a game of chess won't kill me. I'll be there."

"Oh, thank you, Colonel Hogan!" Schultz beamed, and looked around for his rifle. "I know I set it somewhere…thank you, Newkirk." He took the rifle from Newkirk and headed out the door.

Hogan watched him exit the barracks, torn between amusement and disbelief. "Does he do that a lot?"

"Forget 'is rifle? Never remembers the bloody thing." Newkirk sat down at the table and pulled out a cigarette, and then patted all his pockets, a frown gathering on his brow.

Kinch grinned and tossed him a match. "We sort of have an agreement with Schultz, Colonel Hogan."

"That is true," LeBeau nodded. "We keep quiet about his mistakes and he brings us things."

"Like extra food, and blankets, and wood for the stove," piped up Minsk.

"And if I cook for him," LeBeau added, "he brings us even more things."

Hogan nodded, a thoughtful glint in his eye, but made no comment.

Kinch cleared his throat. "You sure about this chess playing thing, Colonel?"

"You'd best look sharp, sir," Newkirk added. "Very tricky, these Jerries. Ol' Klink could 'ave you spilling all sorts of secrets."

Hogan smiled. "I'll take my chances. Time I got to know our genial host, anyway."

* * *

><p>Klink played chess almost exactly as Hogan expected: not entirely incompetently, but his moves were timid, conventional, and predictable…except when he was backed into a corner; then he panicked and all strategy went out the window.<p>

And he took forever to ponder each move. Hogan whiled away the time by studying every detail of Klink's quarters and storing the information neatly in his mind, adding it to his mental picture of Luftstalag 13.

Hogan was stretching his hand toward an endangered rook when Klink said, seemingly out of the blue, "And that's when I sent LeBeau to the _Krankenhaus_ in Hammelburg."

Hogan's hand hovered over the board as his attention snapped from the game to Klink's casual statement. "Oh?" was his brilliant response.

Klink gave him a pitying smile. "I am sorry, Colonel Hogan. I keep forgetting that you Americans are sadly deficient in your linguistic abilities. Allow me to rephrase that: That is when I sent LeBeau to the hospital in Hammelburg."

Hogan swiftly replayed the last few minutes' conversation in his head and came up empty. "I'm sorry, Kommandant, I was concentrating so hard…just why did LeBeau go to the hospital?"

Klink took a sip of wine. "He had suffered a broken leg and concussion, as well as exposure to the cold. It was when he and the _Engländer_ Newkirk made that foolish escape attempt last December." He shook his head sadly. "Newkirk in particular should have known better; he has been here almost two years! But fortunately our efficient and ferocious guard dogs found them in time, so no harm done. No one escapes from Luftstalag 13, Colonel Hogan!"

Hogan said dryly, "So I've been told."

* * *

><p>After Hogan tactfully conceded the game to Colonel Klink, he walked slowly back to Barracks 2, deep in thought. So that must have been a pretty serious escape attempt, then. One that had been thwarted by the dogs.<p>

_Those damn dogs!_

There was so much he needed to find out. He considered having a talk with Kinchloe about what had happened; the Sergeant had only been in camp for a couple of months, but he was obviously well-liked and respected, and the acknowledged leader of Barracks 2. Hogan thought about it, but finally discarded the idea. He would bide his time and see if Newkirk and LeBeau themselves brought up the subject.

And although Klink seemed to feel that the recapture of the two men had ended the matter, Hogan wasn't so sure. He had lain awake for the last few nights listening to strange sounds emanating from beneath Barracks 2. Somebody was digging, he was sure of it. These prisoners were not as cowed as Klink believed…something was definitely going on.

There was a lot to think about, and Hogan had a feeling his plans for escape were about to become much more complicated.

But he was still determined to put Plan B into action, and it was time for some preliminary reconnaissance work. Hogan decided tonight was the night he would venture outside the wire.

* * *

><p>That night after lights out, Gerda and Hildegard returned from foot patrol with the guards.<p>

"Nothing to report," Gerda told Wolfgang.

"_Sehr gut," _Wolfgang replied. "You two get some sleep. Dieter and Bismarck will keep watch, and I'll take Gerhardt with me for reconnaissance tonight."

"Really?" Gerhardt trotted over, his ears pricking up. He hadn't been on duty long at the camp, and this would be his first patrol without a guard on leash. Hans and Bruno had already done nighttime reconnaissance duty and Gerhardt had been envying his brothers, although he was careful not to show it.

"It's time you had the opportunity," Wolfgang said. "You're ready, right?"

"_Ja!"_

Wolfgang smiled at his enthusiasm. "Things have been quiet lately, ever since Colonel Hogan arrived, but we still need to keep our eyes open." He lifted his head and sniffed the air for a few moments. Then he nodded to Gerhardt. "Let's go. Think you can manage the latch?"

"I think so, Wolfgang." The young dog moved over to the gate and slipped his paw into the space between the fence and the gate latch and wiggled it a bit, just as Fritzi had taught him.

The bar popped up and Wolfgang carefully nosed the gate open. A twitch of his ear let Gerhardt know it was safe to venture outside.

Keeping to the shadows of the buildings, the two dogs made the rounds of the camp, pausing outside each barracks building, the guards' quarters, and the Kommandantur.

From within each building they could hear the snuffling, snorting, snoring, and occasional murmurings from the sleeping men.

Wolfgang paused longest outside Barracks 2...there always seemed to be something going on there.

But not tonight; all was quiet.

Then Gerhardt whimpered softly and Wolfgang turned his head to look at him. The younger dog jerked his head toward the corner of the building, and Wolfgang nodded. The two of them slunk around the perimeter till they reached the side facing Barracks 3.

Gerhardt's sharp hearing had not misled him. At the back of the building, a set of window shutters was being opened with excruciating slowness and almost total silence. Almost.

The two dogs sat down and waited for developments.

The shutters swung wide and a human foot became visible, then both feet and the legs. The human let himself down to the ground outside, landing lightly. He closed the shutters again with care and looked around him, but he did not spot the two dogs watching him in the darkness.

Then he moved silently across to the shadow of Barracks 3. When he headed around the building toward the west fence, the dogs followed him.

"It's that Colonel Hogan," Gerhardt whispered to Wolfgang, his eyes wide.

Wolfgang nodded, and then he stiffened as both dogs' ears pricked up; a guard was approaching!

* * *

><p>Hogan waited in the shadows near the west fence. He had identified an area along the fence that, from his calculations, should be a blind spot from the watchtowers. In his pocket he had a small tool that he had fashioned from a garden trowel he had liberated; it would serve to cut the wire.<p>

He watched the sweep of the searchlights and listened carefully. Now was the moment.

But as he moved toward the fence, he became aware of another presence beside him, and the hair on the back of his neck rose. He turned his head slightly but saw nothing in the darkness.

Then something clamped down on his arm and began dragging him back toward the shadows. Thoroughly spooked and unable to free his arm from the grip of his unseen assailant, Hogan put up no resistance.

And then he realized that the creature who restrained him was not human. His arm was caught in the powerful jaws of one of the guard dogs, and a second dog was crowded close to him.

The two dogs stared at him in the shadows, and Hogan kept very still, fearful that the second dog might go for his throat.

And then he heard footsteps approaching, and he realized he hadn't studied the guards' routine thoroughly enough. He closed his eyes in resignation, waiting for the dogs to reveal his presence, but they remained as quiet as he, waiting until the guard had passed them by.

Then, unbelievably, the dog released his arm and he was free. He looked down at the two dogs, his vision having adjusted to the darkness, and he could see that they were watching him with tongues lolling and tails waving gently.

He backed away from the dogs, his hands raised with the palms outward in a gesture of capitulation. The big dog tilted his head and sat down, and the smaller one followed suit.

Hogan didn't have a clue what was going on, but he'd had enough for one night. With one eye on the dogs, he edged his way back along Barracks 3, rounded the corner, and then hurried over to the shadows of Barracks 2.

He found the window of his quarters and eased the shutters open again. He looked back over his shoulder and saw that the two dogs had followed him and were watching his progress.

With an inaudible sigh, he climbed back into the room. He leaned out of the window to grasp the shutters to close them, and looked at the dogs one last time. Smiling wryly, he sketched a salute, and pulled the shutters closed.

* * *

><p>Outside Barracks 2, Gerhardt looked at the older dog. <em>"Heiligen Mist,<em> Wolfgang!"

Wolfgang nodded. "My feelings exactly."

* * *

><p>Hogan fastened the window latch and walked over to his bunk and sank down on it. He was more than a little shaken by the close call and the inexplicable actions of the dogs. Something very, very strange was going on at Luftstalag 13.<p>

_Holy crap!_


	15. An unexpected rendezvous

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Wolfgang watched as the Doctor's truck pulled away from the dog pen and headed for the front gates. He frowned thoughtfully and turned to the two new arrivals who had just returned from leave at the Schnitzers'.<p>

"What's the news from the homefront?"

Frieda and Fritzi looked at each other, and then Fritzi spoke first. "Max has contacted Mama Bear about the note LeBeau attached to my collar."

Wolfgang's ears pricked up. "Are they going to help the prisoners, then?"

Frieda sighed. "There seems to be a problem. I didn't hear all of it, but it sounds as if Mama Bear is trying to deal with two different groups regarding the prisoners at Luftstalag 13."

"Let me guess," said Wolfgang. "The two groups are unable to agree on anything."

"_Ja,_ that's about the size of it," said Fritzi. "SOE doesn't want Max and the Doctor to jeopardize their operation by helping the prisoners, especially since Schultz suspects the prisoners of something he calls monkey business. On the other hand, MI9 would like to help all the prisoners to escape, regardless of what happens to Max and the Doctor."

Wolfgang got to his feet and started to pace. "It sounds as if they are all just chasing their own tails."

Frieda nodded. "I wanted to grab them by the scruff of the neck and shake some sense into them."

"But that's not all," said Fritzi. "Olsen contacted his superiors as well, to verify Colonel Hogan's identity. Once the Americans realized the Colonel was here at Luftstalag 13, there was a great deal of excitement. It seems they are very anxious to get Colonel Hogan back to London as soon as possible."

Bismarck seized on this. "So Colonel Hogan is a very important human?"

Fritzi nodded. _"Ja._ He was the leader of a pack called the 504th Bomb Group; a group that has been very successful in the fight against Hitler."

"No wonder the Americans want him back," said Bismarck.

"I suppose if Colonel Hogan escapes back to England that would be a good thing for the war effort," mused Frieda. "But what will happen to our flock if he does?"

The assembled dogs looked at each other in consternation as they considered the possibility.

Franz's ears twitched anxiously. "Everyone knows how Colonel Klink feels about his no-escape record. And if an important human like Colonel Hogan manages to escape…"

Wolfgang shook his head. "At the very least, the lives of the prisoners here will be made even more miserable."

"It would be best for everyone if Colonel Hogan stays right here," Frieda said, with a decided nod.

Fritzi asked no one in particular, "And why would he want to do that?"

"Maybe if he knew what Olsen and the others were up to, he might decide to stay and help them," suggested Franz.

Bismarck sighed. "You could be right. If only we could give him a push in the right direction!"

The group pondered this for a few moments.

Finally Frieda said, "By the way, Olsen told the Doctor he plans to meet a contact tonight near the stalag."

Wolfgang narrowed his eyes. _"Sehr_ _gut. _Tonight three of us will do reconnaissance...I have a plan."

* * *

><p>That night, about an hour after lights out, when all was quiet in Barracks 2, Colonel Hogan tossed aside his blanket and crept to the window of his quarters. He eased open the window and inserted the blade of his improvised wirecutting tool between the shutters. He carefully pushed upward until the exterior bar lifted and the shutters swung open.<p>

He waited and listened, then, satisfied that the coast was clear, climbed out of the window and dropped to the ground outside. He had been paying close attention to the movements of the guards for the past two nights and none of them should be nearby just now, but he edged his way carefully to the shadows of Barracks 3, all senses alert.

This time, he was determined to succeed in getting outside the wire. He needed to know the layout of the area surrounding the stalag before he could plan an escape in earnest.

Keeping to the shadows, he made his way around Barracks 3 and headed for the spot he had chosen on the west fence. But his senses prickled and he slowly turned his head.

Three dogs were sitting near the fence and staring at him.

_Oh, hell. Not again._

* * *

><p>"Just as I'd hoped!" said Wolfgang. "If he leaves right away he should run into Olsen. Then Olsen will have to explain himself, I'm sure."<p>

Bismarck watched Hogan pessimistically. "I don't know…he's heading for the wrong section of fence, and if he plans on cutting the wire, that will take some time."

Wolfgang sighed. "You're right. Fritzi, show him the part of the fence Olsen has loosened."

Fritzi trotted over to the fence, about six feet to the left of where Hogan was, and froze in a perfect (if somewhat theatrical) point, his tail extended and his right front paw tucked neatly under, indicating to Hogan exactly where he should peel back the fence.

Wolfgang muttered, "What a ham! The kid thinks he's a hunting dog instead of a shepherd."

"He got the message across, old chap," replied Bismarck. "Look at the Colonel."

Hogan paused, and slowly looked from Fritzi to Wolfgang to Bismarck and back. Then he shrugged and crouched down by the section of fence that Fritzi had pointed out. There was no need for him to cut any wire; Olsen had been through this section many times, and all Hogan had to do was pull the corner back.

Within a few moments he had reached the outer fence and gone through that as well.

Wolfgang looked at his two companions. "I'm going after him - I want to make sure he finds Olsen out there. Bismarck, hold the inner fence back, and Fritzi, follow me through and hold the outer fence back."

"_Jawohl, _Wolfgang."

Bismarck gingerly grasped the edge of the fence with his teeth and pulled it back to allow the other two to wriggle through into the space between the fences.

Fritzi went to the outer fence and pulled it back. Wolfgang crawled through and nodded to his friends. "Keep an eye out for guards and keep to the shadows. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Be careful!"

* * *

><p>Hogan cautiously made his way through the woods, carefully noting landmarks in the fitful moonlight, and just as carefully trying not to think about his latest strange encounter with the dogs. He was going through a mental list of what he would need once he was ready to escape, when a cold wet nose nudging his hand almost made him jump out of his skin.<p>

Looking down, he saw one of the guard dogs, the big one who always seemed to be watching him. The dog whined softly and then ran a few feet from him and looked back.

Hogan had seen enough Rin Tin Tin movies in his youth to recognize when a dog wanted to him to follow. So he did, wondering at his own gullibility as he did so.

Dog and man moved silently through the woods until the dog stopped abruptly and looked up at Hogan. Then Hogan saw it too….a man crouching in the underbrush, apparently not realizing he was under observation.

The dog suddenly stiffened with his ears pricking up, and Hogan heard it too, very faintly…booted feet approaching. The man a few feet away didn't seem to notice, though, and Hogan made an executive decision.

He tackled the man in the underbrush and clamped a hand over his mouth, roughly telling him not to move. Almost at the same moment the dog took off like a bolt of lightning, heading south, away from the direction of the camp.

Voices and footsteps from the approaching patrol were heard, and then exclamations as the footsteps changed direction and followed the sounds of the dog moving through the underbrush.

Hogan waited until he was sure they were gone, and then released his captive, who sat up gingerly, and said with a gasp, _"Colonel?"_

Hogan bent closer to peer at the man…it was the last person he expected to see. _"Verdammt!_ Olsen, is that you?"

* * *

><p>Panting, Wolfgang arrived back at the camp a few minutes later, having successfully shaken off his pursuers, who were now trying to extricate themselves from a bog.<p>

Fritzi hurriedly pulled back the outer fence to let him through, and then Bismarck did the same with the inner fence. Safely back in the compound, Wolfgang shook himself and grinned at the other two.

"Well?" asked Bismarck. "Did you and the Colonel find Olsen?"

"_Ja,_ we did," said Wolfgang. "Right now I think Olsen's got some explaining to do."


	16. An epiphany

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Hogan stared at the young man sitting on the ground, his face dimly visible in the moonlight. Olsen, outside the wire? The quiet one of Barracks 2, who always seemed to vanish when Hogan was around?<p>

He gave vent to his bewilderment, and came right out and asked the question, albeit in a low, intense tone. "What the _hell_ are you doing out here, soldier?"

Olsen eyed him warily. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I might ask you the same question."

Hogan looked back at him with gathering suspicion, but before he could reply, Olsen said it: _the word._

_The word._ The secret word that all West Point graduates knew, the one to be used in emergency situations as a recognition code.

Stunned, Hogan replied with the proper response, his mind racing. Okay, so here was a West Point grad masquerading as an enlisted airman in a POW camp, in the heart of Germany. But why?

Wasn't anything at Luftstalag 13 what it seemed to be? First it was that jolly sergeant of the guard who tended to forget his rifle, and the neurotic Kommandant who liked to play chess, then there were those crazy dogs...

The dog! Hogan looked around, but his guide was nowhere to be seen. Then he recalled that the dog had taken off at the first sounds of the patrol approaching, and the patrol had apparently followed him.

Could it be that blessed hound had deliberately drawn the patrol away from Olsen and himself?

Hogan sighed inwardly. This whole set up at Luftstalag 13 was taking on the aspect of a surrealistic fantasy. He wasn't sure if he was Alice down the rabbit-hole or Dorothy suddenly transported to Oz. All he knew was he'd had enough for one night.

He said to Olsen, who had been patiently waiting during Hogan's cogitations: "Explanations can wait; I'm done here for the night. Need to get back to my bunk for a few hours of shut-eye before roll call."

"Me too." Olsen got to his feet and led the way back through the woods to the camp, navigating a circuitous route without hesitation, and Hogan realized he must have been outside the wire many times before.

When they reached the fenced perimeter of the camp, Olsen gestured toward a group of trees, and the two men huddled there until the searchlight swept past. Then they went through the fence, at the exact spot the dogs had shown Hogan earlier.

Hogan led the way back to Barracks 2, keeping to the shadows and listening closely for sounds of guard activity. But all was quiet, and the two men made it safely to the window of Hogan's quarters.

Once inside, Hogan told Olsen he would meet with him the next morning, and dismissed him. After Olsen departed, closing the door soundlessly, Hogan flopped on his bunk. There were enough unanswered questions chasing each other in his mind to keep him awake all night, but his exhausted body had the upper hand and he fell asleep immediately.

* * *

><p>The next morning after roll call, the residents of Barracks 2 scattered, each intent on a pursuit of his own. Peter waited a moment, and then took LeBeau aside. "I need to talk with you, mate."<p>

LeBeau looked sharply at his friend as they began to trudge across the compound. "What is it? You look worried."

"Not worried. Just…thinkin' about a few things. It's different now with the Colonel here, innit?"

LeBeau narrowed his eyes and replied, _"Oui,_ of course it is. You are thinking perhaps we shall need his approval for our escape."

"Well, yes and no, Louis. Actually, I'm thinkin' we shouldn't escape at all."

LeBeau stopped dead in his tracks, shocked. _"Zut!_ Are you telling me I have worked all these months to learn the filthy _Boche_ language, and for nothing?"

Peter held up his hands in appeasement. "No need to ruffle your feathers like a ruddy 'en, Louis! What I'm trying to say is, we should be 'elping the Colonel to escape instead."

LeBeau's eyes widened, and then he lowered his head and resumed walking, this time with an agitated stride, and Peter had to hurry to catch up with him. LeBeau was muttering, and Peter strained his ears to hear him.

"But of course! Kinch has told us that _le Colonel _is a very important man, a very good officer….for an officer…and has led many successful missions against the Nazis." He looked at Peter and sighed. "You are correct, _mon ami._ It would be far better for the Allies to have him back rather than the two of us, irreplaceable though we may be."

Peter gave him a wan smile, and the two walked on in silence for a bit, each immersed in his own thoughts.

"We're doin' the right thing, Louis."

"_Oui."_

"But it's a bit 'ard, you know? Givin' up a dream, you might say."

"_Oui. _But I want the _Boches_ driven from _la belle France_, and the sooner the better, _non?"_

Peter nodded. "The sooner the better. I think we should tell Colonel 'ogan all about the tunnel, and the forged papers, and the civilian clothing Minsk has been making…everything. Today."

"And the dogs, Pierre! Do not forget about the dogs!"

Peter scratched his head. "Well, we can try to explain the dogs…but face it, Louis, who would believe it?"

* * *

><p>Hogan met with Olsen outside the delousing station that morning, as had been arranged the night before. Olsen looked as tired as Hogan felt, and Hogan wondered how many nights the kid had spent wandering around outside the wire. And why the hell did he do it?<p>

So he didn't beat around the bush. "All right, give. Who are you? Or more to the point, _what _are you?"

Olsen took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "Army Intelligence."

Hogan's brows shot up; that explained a good deal, certainly, but he had a further question. "Why here?"

Olsen sighed. "My latest assignment. Klink tends to have important visitors and he loves to brag about them and their doings - often in earshot of the prisoners. The visitors themselves are pretty indiscreet - probably because they think we're no threat to them. I relay the information through an underground contact, or directly by shortwave that one of my contacts has hidden."

"And you were to meet a contact last night?"

"Yes, sir, but the patrol probably scared him off anyway. That's happened before; we'll meet again next week."

"And you have radio contact with London?"

"Yes, sir. And I should tell you, sir, that I let them know you are here."

Hogan had to grin; he would have done the same had he been in Olsen's shoes. "Checking out my credentials, huh?"

Olsen reddened, but he stood his ground. "Kinch and the others recognized you, so I really didn't have any doubts, sir; but I had to verify it with my superiors."

"I understand."

"And sir…they really want you back in England. I'm to give you whatever assistance I can to help you escape."

Hogan regarded the younger man thoughtfully for a moment. "Appreciate it, Sergeant….uh, what is your true rank?"

"Captain, sir."

"Thought so. Listen, I want to mull this over for a bit. I'll see you in my office this evening, after roll call."

"Yes, sir." Olsen wandered off casually toward the group of POWs playing volleyball, and Hogan headed in the other direction, thinking hard.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts, he almost collided with the little Frenchman, LeBeau.

"_Excusez-moi, mon Colonel!"_

"No, no, my fault, Corporal." Hogan would have moved on, but LeBeau began to speak again.

"_S'il vous plaît, mon Colonel_, we wish to have an audience with you in the barracks, sir. It is most important."

Hogan wondered at his intense tone, but nodded. "Of course."

Following LeBeau into Barracks 2, Hogan discovered several POWs already there waiting for him. Newkirk, Kinch, and Minsk were there, along with Sergeant Riley from Barracks 5, Sergeant Rocheleau from Barracks 9, and Sergeant MacLaughlin from Barracks 11.

They all regarded him solemnly but no one spoke. Finally Hogan said with a grin, "At ease, men! Go ahead and tell me what's on your minds."

Newkirk looked around at the others, and cleared his throat. "It's like this, Colonel. We 'ad plans to escape, LeBeau and me…"

LeBeau interrupted excitedly. _"Mon Colonel,_ we tried, but we did not succeed. But we have learned, and we planned for the next time…"

"Next time?" Hogan inquired mildly. "Would that have anything to do with the digging noises I hear every night?"

Rocheleau gave a hiss of exasperation and glared at the others. "I told you, did I not? How could he not hear the noises directly beneath him?"

The prisoners all began to speak at once, but the calm, deep voice of Kinch cut through it all. "Take it easy, guys. It's best the Colonel knows all about our doings underground." He turned to Hogan. "Colonel, these guys have been planning this for a long time."

Hogan's excellent memory clicked, and he nodded. "Since the failed attempt in December?"

Newkirk sighed. "Klink tell you that, sir?"

"Yeah, he mentioned it. Seemed to think no one would ever have the nerve to try again…but he was wrong, wasn't he?"

"_Oui!_" LeBeau was indignant. "We have been merely biding our time, and making preparations. Sergeant Minsk has been making us civilian clothing…"

"And Kinch has been teaching them German," put in Minsk.

"And Newkirk has borrowed papers for us to forge," added Kinch.

"Borrowed?" Hogan looked questioningly at the British corporal.

Newkirk grinned and held up his hands. "Me magic fingers….we needed proper papers to copy from, so I borrowed Schultz's _Soldbuch_ one day, and I 'ad it back in 'is pocket the next mornin', with 'im none the wiser. And then there was this one bloke, a visitor, 'e was…I lifted 'is _Wehrpass_. I'm sure 'e missed it, but 'e's never been back to jolly old Stalag 13, so I could 'ardly return it to 'im, now, could I?"

"I guess not…" Hogan was feeling a bit dazed.

LeBeau rushed on, "_Colonel, _you must see the tunnels! And I must tell you about the dogs…"

Hogan held up a hand. "I know about the dogs, thanks. Tunnels, in the plural? It sounds like you fellas have been pretty busy."

Newkirk looked around at the others as if seeking their approval, then plunged ahead. "That we 'ave, Colonel, but we've been thinking, sir, that all our work won't mean a thing, will it, unless it makes a difference in the war."

Hogan nodded slowly. "You're probably right."

Newkirk took a deep breath. "And that's why, sir, we are prepared to 'elp you escape instead of us."

Hogan's gaze traveled from face to earnest face, and he realized they meant it. He said slowly, "So you are telling me that you - all of you here at Luftstalag 13 - have been working for months to help Newkirk and LeBeau make a successful escape, and now you are ready to give me the chance instead?"

Kinch's eyes were very steady as he replied, "That's exactly it, Colonel. We would all like to be out of this place, of course we would. But what it boils down to is this: if we take the risk to help someone escape, it had better be someone who can do the most to help bring this damned war to an end."

LeBeau added, "And that is you, _mon Colonel."_

* * *

><p>A short time later Hogan put his hands in his pockets and paced the compound. He was trying to process all the new information he had been given, and he was trying to deal with the overwhelming urge he had to get back in the war. The 504th had been making a difference in this lousy war...<em>he<em> had been making a difference...until he got shot down.

And now London wanted him back. Olsen was prepared to help him escape. Hell, the whole camp was gung-ho on getting him out of here.

He should be delighted; Plan B was within his grasp, so close he could taste it. Everything was working out for his escape to England, and for him to resume his command of the 504th. But something was niggling at him, and finally it became clear to him as a memory popped into his mind.

While he was attached to the RAF, he had struck up an acquaintance with an Eagle Squadron airman by the name of Jackson Gibbs. Gibbs was young and brash, as were most of the fighter pilots, but he had a philosophical bent that manifested itself in homespun maxims. And one of his favorite sayings was this: "You don't waste good."

_You don't waste good. You don't throw away opportunities; you use every advantage you've been given._

And difficult though it was to believe, life at Luftstalag 13 had its advantages.

A Kommandant who actually cared enough about the welfare of his charges to send one of them to the hospital; and whom, moreover, Hogan felt sure he could wind around his little finger.

A sergeant of the guard who not only cared about "his boys", but who was susceptible to a little bribery and even a little blackmail.

A roof over their heads (even if it leaked when it rained), and food (sort of) to eat, and all on the Krauts' dime. Plus there was nobody shooting at them here, as long as they appeared to obey the rules.

An Allied spy in their midst who had the means of contacting London.

A camp full of Allied soldiers who were willing to give their all, just to help one man escape.

And the most surprising benefit of all: a group of guard dogs who were not what they seemed.

_You don't waste good._

If he continued with Plan B and escaped as he had planned, he would be wasting an incredible, unique opportunity.

_But I need to get back in the war!_

At this point, almost without his realizing it, Plan B began to shift in Hogan's mind, and an idea began to take shape. A bizarre idea, perhaps, but he was noted for his bizarre ideas.

_Maybe I __**can**__ get back in the war. Maybe we can all get back in the war, and make a difference. Right here, at little old Luftstalag 13._

_Yeah, I've got a whole new Plan B in mind…but we could never do it without those blessed dogs. And I think I know what LeBeau was trying to tell me about them._

He looked around to make sure none of the guards was nearby, and walked up to the dog pen.

* * *

><p>Wolfgang got to his feet and moved close to the fence as the Colonel drew near. The other dogs, who had been stretched out in the shade, ranged themselves behind Wolfgang. They all stared at Hogan, waiting.<p>

Hogan cleared his throat. "Listen, fellas, and, uh, ladies, I appreciate what you've done for me. And I understand now. You've been looking out for me, and for all the other men in camp. You look like big tough guard dogs, but you're nothing but a pack of canine con-artists, aren't you?"

Wolfgang nodded, and the others nodded too.

Hogan blinked in surprise, but went on manfully. "And your handler…that veterinarian, what's-his-name…"

Wolfgang woofed.

The Colonel apparently understood Wolfgang's contribution to the conversation. "That's right, Schnitzer. He's part of the Resistance, isn't he? He must be!"

All of the dogs nodded again.

Hogan nodded too. "Okay, it's settled. Plan B has just taken a hundred and eighty degree turn…it's not about me anymore, it's about all of us. And with four-footed guardian angels like you on our side, how can we lose?"

Wolfgang watched as Hogan walked away with a purposeful stride, whistling. He turned his head and looked at his comrades with a smile.

"We've got our alpha."


	17. Plan B

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Kinch squinted in the afternoon sun as he leaned against Barracks 2. "I wonder…" he mused.<p>

"Wonder about what, mate?" asked Newkirk. "When the Colonel plans on leaving us?"

"I wonder about that, _aussi_," said LeBeau. "He did not have much to say after we told him about the tunnels, _n'est-ce pas? _Merely, he thanked us and said he had much thinking to do."

The three POWs watched their CO prowl the compound, with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

"He's thinking, all right," said Kinch. "And I do believe he's hatching a plan."

"A plan, is it?" Newkirk turned his head to look at Kinch.

"Yep. The Colonel was famous at High Wycombe for concocting plans, as I recall," said Kinch. "Thing is, no one ever knew for sure just how his plans were going to turn out." He added meditatively, "They always meant trouble for the Krauts, though."

Just then the Colonel stopped abruptly, staring off into the distance. Then he straightened his jacket, set his cap on his head in a more military fashion, and walked over to the dog pen.

"What's 'e doing, then…talking to the ruddy dogs?" Newkirk craned his neck to see better.

"Why not?" asked LeBeau, and for once Newkirk had no snappy comeback. Kinch grinned and declined to comment.

A few moments later the Colonel concluded his visit at the dog pen and strode rapidly toward Barracks 2.

He nodded crisply to Kinch, who thought: _He's wearing his commander face…first time I've seen it since he got here._

"Glad to see the three of you here. Kinch, I want to meet with all of you, plus the barracks chiefs, half an hour after roll call tonight. Without attracting undue attention from the goons, of course. Can you manage it?"

"Will do, sir."

Hogan nodded. "Good. I'll be meeting with Olsen first, and then I think we all have a lot to discuss."

"Olsen…?" Kinch began, but the Colonel had disappeared inside the barracks.

"Do not worry," LeBeau reassured him, noting the perturbed look on Kinch's face. "I have concluded that Olsen is to be trusted after all."

Newkirk eyed him skeptically. "And 'ow do you figure that, mate?"

LeBeau smiled. "Olsen also talks to the dogs."

* * *

><p>"...so that's my idea, Olsen. With your help, and the help of the underground - those Resistance members you mentioned – we can do something important here."<p>

Hogan had to grin at the look on Olsen's face; it was a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and awe, and it took a moment for the younger man to find his voice.

"I'd say you've got a beaut of an idea, Colonel! We'll have to coordinate it with Mama Bear, though."

"Mama Bear?"

"The SOE contact that the Hammelburg cell uses. And then there's MI9, and my boss at Army Intelligence…"

Hogan nodded thoughtfully. "Not to mention my own CO, General Butler. Hell, he might have to clear it with Spaatz himself." He looked up at Olsen and grinned. "Say, this Hammelburg cell…would they have a member by the name of Schnitzer, by any chance?"

Olsen's eyes widened. "How did you know, sir?"

"Let's just say I got to know the dogs a little better, and I sort of figured it out." Hogan looked at his watch. "It's time to see if the fellas agree with this beaut of an idea of mine."

He opened the door of his quarters and went out into the common room, with Olsen slipping to the back of the room unnoticed. Kinch had kept his word: all of the requested POWs were there, and if any inquisitive guard might happen to walk in, the presence of the crowd was explained by a noisy card game in progress, presided over by several of the Barracks 2 regulars, with another one assigned to watch the door. The atmosphere was hazy with cigarette smoke.

Hogan took a deep breath. This was it; make or break time.

He had no doubt that he could sell his idea to his fellow prisoners of Luftstalag 13; Uncle Harold had often told him that he had the instincts of a born salesman, not to mention the makings of a potential con artist. And hadn't those skills gotten him into West Point and into the Aviation Cadet program, and made him a full colonel by the age of thirty-six? Yeah, he was pretty sure he could sell just about anything to anyone.

And for certain he would need that ability in order to convince the Allied High Command that his plan could succeed. But first he had to get approval from an even more important group, and this was not the time for salesmanship. Right now, in fairness to these men, only the bare, unvarnished facts would serve.

He faced the barracks chiefs assembled in the common room, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard by them under the cover of the ongoing card game. He looked at each of them in turn, and began quietly.

"When I was first captured, my only thought was to get back in the war. Plan B, I called it. Escape was the only thing on my mind because I thought that was the only way I could resume the fight."

The men nodded, and he knew that on some deep level they all understood how he had felt.

"But then I came here, and saw that all of you were fighting the war in your own way. You were working toward a common goal: to get two of your comrades back to England, back to resume the fight, even though you must have realized what the consequences would be for those left behind."

Again they nodded, and Hogan was struck once more by the altruism the prisoners of Luftstalag 13 had shown to Newkirk and LeBeau, and ultimately himself.

He went on, "Then you gave me the greatest gift possible: the opportunity to use all that you have achieved here so that I could make my own escape. And I assure you that once back in England, I would have done my utmost to help end this war as soon as possible." He paused. "I would have done, yes. But then it came to me: what if I don't escape? _What if no one ever escapes from Stalag 13?"_

That got a reaction, all right, but Hogan raised his hand, stemming the flow of startled and indignant protest.

"Or maybe I should say, what if it _appears _that no one ever escapes from Stalag 13? Hear me out, fellas. The war is not going well for the Allies...Klink hasn't been lying about that. An Allied invasion of Europe is a long, long way off, and the only way we can strike at the enemy is by air, or from behind enemy lines. Well, we can't fight from the air anymore, and you probably can't get any further behind enemy lines than we are right here. But I have an idea; it's an idea that I'll need to clear with the brass, but I need to clear it with you fellas first."

There was utter silence from his audience, which contrasted oddly with the enthusiastic card game going on in the background. Hogan continued: "Every day that passes brings more downed Allied fliers landing on German soil. The most important thing we can do to help the war effort is to return these highly-trained and irreplaceable airmen to England, and get them back into action. I want to engineer the escape of not one or two men, but dozens of them. _Hundreds_ of them. I want us to do exactly what you've been doing to help LeBeau and Newkirk, but on a large scale. I won't go into the details right now, but it can be done. I am convinced of it."

Kinch was looking thoughtful, LeBeau and Newkirk were beaming, and the various barracks chiefs all kept their eyes fixed on Hogan's face.

Hogan continued, "This is what I want us to do: get fliers back to England, and anything else we can dream up to injure the enemy, all the while pretending to be nice, quiet, cooperative POWs who keep Klink's record intact. I won't minimize the risks involved: this isn't stuff that normal POWs do, and once we involve ourselves in this operation, we won't be abiding by the rules and regulations as defined by the Geneva Convention. We won't be under its protection should we get caught. So this will have to be an all-volunteer undertaking."

He let that sink in, and added soberly, "We have the opportunity, right here and right now, to do our bit in this war. I believe each of you is in a position to speak for the men of your barracks. And I'm asking you: are you willing to join me in this effort?"

The barracks chiefs remained silent, with their eyes still on Hogan, who gazed back at each of them in turn. Riley from Baltimore, pugnacious and voluble. Rocheleau, the intellectual and introverted Frenchman. The Australian MacLaughlin, stolid and stubborn. And the others, all of whom had been chosen by the men of their barracks to represent them. Was it too much to hope that they could share his vision?

Finally, MacLaughlin stepped forward. He planted his hands on the tabletop, and leaned toward Hogan. His bushy eyebrows snapped together, and his piercing blue eyes met Hogan's calmly.

"When do we start?"

* * *

><p>Corporal Zeller smothered a yawn as he encountered Private Kurtz in the compound. It lacked only a few minutes to lights out and lockdown, and he spoke briefly to his colleague, who, like Zeller, was on patrol with one of the dogs.<p>

"Quiet night, Christoph. Except for Barracks 2, of course. Another card game, from the sound of it."

Kurtz chuckled. "At least it keeps them out of trouble, _ja?"_

Bismarck, who had Zeller on leash, remarked to Wolfgang, "Little do they know! The Colonel has come up with a plan, and I have a feeling we're all going to be very busy, very soon."

Wolfgang nodded. "And so it begins. Schnitzer is due to visit the camp tomorrow; I'll try to wangle some leave so I can see what's going on at home."

"Good idea," replied Bismarck. "I believe the Colonel wants very badly to meet Max and the Doctor; it will be good for you to be there if they arrange a meeting."

"That won't be a problem," Wolfgang said, with a touch of complacency. "The Doctor is quite easy to manage if one is patient."

Bismarck grinned. "Something tells me we won't be able to say that about Colonel Hogan!"


	18. An impending meeting

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>September, 1942<br>High Wycombe, England

In a cramped office at the Eighth Air Force headquarters, General Benson Butler was scowling as he reviewed the report of the previous day's bomb run. It had been a good run, with much damage to the factories in the area, but at a heavy cost to the Allies.

Seven aircrews lost over Germany...crews that were desperately needed for the war effort. It appeared that the so-called Flying Fortresses were so many sitting ducks once their fighter escorts had to turn back. _We need long-range fighters,_ Butler mused. _Those Messerschmitts are giving us hell! Maybe we should have the bombers flying in tight formation...wouldn't help against the flak, of course, but they'd be better able to fend off the ME-109s..._

Times like this he wished he had the input of a forward-thinking man like Robert Hogan. Now, there was a guy with ideas...okay, so Hogan's ideas were sometimes over-elaborate, even bizarre; but hell, more often than not those ideas worked. Who else could have orchestrated the bombing of the secret submarine pens near Bremen? Nine U-boats destroyed...and the Nazis had no clue how Hogan had achieved the feat. Hell, even _he _had no clue how Hogan had managed it.

Butler thought about the Colonel, who was currently an unwilling guest of the Krauts at some godforsaken POW camp. He had been very glad to find out that Hogan had survived being shot down, and he had passed on an urgent message through Army Intelligence that he wanted Hogan back in England, pronto. But that was some time ago...he'd better follow up on that situation.

"Higgins!"

A flustered young lieutenant appeared in the office doorway. "Yes, sir?"

"Higgins, get me the Army Intelligence chief I spoke with last week."

"Right away, sir."

A few minutes later:

"Hello, Morris? Butler here. I've been thinking, and I'd like to be there for the next scheduled radio contact with your man at Stalag 13...Good, good...Just let me know when...Colonel Wembley from SOE will be there as well? Excellent...I'll be waiting for your call."

He replaced the receiver and sat for a moment, thinking deeply, his fingertips restlessly drumming the desktop. Then a slow smile appeared.

_The least we can do is get Hogan back to England in style._

"Higgins! Get me Admiral Collins of the Atlantic Fleet!"

A few minutes later, he was speaking into the telephone receiver again. "Jake! Thanks so much for taking my call...I know how busy you guys are, trying to deal with the U-boat menace...yes, yes, I'm fine, but I've got a question. The submarine that you've been using for reconnaissance in the North Sea...what do you mean, how do I know about the sub? Never mind that right now! Listen, Jake, I need to ask a favor..."

* * *

><p>A few days later, in Hammelburg, Germany...<p>

Oskar Schnitzer glanced at the elderly man seated beside him in the truck. "Thank you for coming along today, Father. I am hoping to contact John, and it is very helpful to have Sergeant Schultz distracted while I am at the camp."

Emil Schnitzer was almost eighty years old, thin and frail, but his eyes were bright and he was smiling with anticipation. "Leave him to me, boy - I know how he loves to bend your ear whenever you are at the camp. I don't mind listening to the fellow, and he might let something drop about what he thinks is going on with the prisoners."

"_Ja." _Oskar thought about that for a bit. Schultz might suspect his charges were up to monkey business, but so far it appeared he had not shared that suspicion with Colonel Klink. Still, if the prisoners were at risk, Olsen needed to know, and Oskar was hoping that he and Max would be able to meet with the American tonight.

The trusty old truck pulled up to the gates of Luftstalag 13 and Oskar waited patiently to be waved through. He lifted a hand in greeting to the guard who opened the gate for him, and the guard grinned; he really should have been checking Oskar's papers each time he visited the camp, but it was a mere formality after two years, and Oskar's frequent presence at the stalag was taken for granted.

Which was just the way Oskar liked it. He avoided drawing attention to himself, and quietly came twice a week or more to change out the dogs; today he had brought Dieter and Hildegard to take over for Bruno and Fritzi. He frowned briefly. Wolfgang was long overdue for time off from guard duty, but for the last week or so the dog had refused to leave the stalag.

Maria had been concerned at Wolfgang's prolonged time on duty, and had anxiously asked Oskar if the dog was sick. Wolfgang had been perfectly healthy, of course; he was just stubborn, and for some reason Oskar was reluctant to force the dog to do something he was opposed to doing.

Oskar asked himself at what point he had decided to trust Wolfgang's judgment over his own. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Wolfgang understood far more about the workings of Luftstalag 13 than he did, and there was no harm in leaving the dog at the camp as long as he remained in good health.

So Oskar decided to not even try to take Wolfgang home with him today. He stopped the truck outside the dog pen and climbed out. By the time he went to the back of the truck to allow the two dogs out, Schultz had puffed over, talkative as ever.

"It is a beautiful day, is it not, _Herr Doktor?_ And you have brought your father today!" He gave a little wave to the elder veterinarian. "_Hallo, Herr Doktor!_"

Oskar grunted in reply, and busied himself with the dogs' leashes. Schultz held the gate of the enclosure open for him, prattling on with unimpaired good humor. At this point Emil quietly took Schultz to one side and provided the Sergeant with a rapt audience, as Schultz treated him to a discourse on life in the Schultz household.

Inside the pen, Oskar had just bent to unsnap Dieter's and Hildegard's leashes when Wolfgang came forward and sat down facing him.

"…and then my dear wife Gretchen began to tell me about her boss at the factory, such a fussy man, you would not believe! He wants everything just so…"

Emil was smiling and nodding, and Oskar sighed with relief that he wasn't the one conversing with the Sergeant today. He turned to Wolfgang and regarded the dog sternly, speaking to him in an undertone.

"So you are not backing away from me today, eh? _Sehr gut! _Let's take a look at you now."

Oskar examined Wolfgang carefully, checking his ears, his mouth, his paws, and ran his hands over the dog's frame, nodding with satisfaction as there were no signs of injury. He went to each dog in turn, and was glad to find them all healthy. He finally straightened, and went to Bruno to attach a leash to his collar, but was surprised when Bruno backed away with an apologetic woof.

"What…?" Oskar let the end of the leash drop to the ground.

"….and then she told me Uncle Otto had one too many glasses of schnapps at Cousin Horst's on Tuesday, and…"

Emil was still smiling and nodding, but his eyes were starting to glaze over.

In the pen, Oskar put his hands on his hips and glowered at the assembled dogs. "A mutiny, is it? And just who is the boss around here, I should like to know?"

As one, the dogs' heads swung toward Wolfgang, who dipped his own head modestly.

Oskar sighed. "Why am I not surprised? Very well, Wolfgang. Which of you will be going back with me?"

Wolfgang and Bismarck moved out of the group and sat down squarely in front of Oskar, tongues lolling.

"...and it was a very good day, _Herr Doktor,_ when Colonel Hogan came. I do not think my boys are up to monkey business anymore, at least I hope they are not..." Schultz was still in full spate. He hadn't ever had such an appreciative audience; poor Emil still had his smile fixed firmly in place.

Shaking his head, Oskar clipped the leashes to Wolfgang's and Bismarck's collars. He straightened up and then paused, scanning the compound. Sure enough, Olsen was lounging against the wall of one of the barracks. As soon as Oskar caught his eye, Olsen yawned and stretched, and Oskar adjusted his cap in response.

He turned to exit the enclosure of the dog pen, and Schultz hurried forward to hold the gate open for him.

"All is in order with the dogs, _Herr Doktor?"_

Oskar gave his usual grumbling reply: _"Ja, ja." _He loaded the two dogs into the back of the truck as his father bade goodbye to the portly Sergeant.

"You must be patient with my son, Sergeant. He has much on his mind."

Schultz was inclined to be gracious regarding Oskar's ungraciousness. "I understand, _Herr Doktor. _These are difficult times! Why, my Gretchen often tells me that..."

Emil said hurriedly as he climbed into the truck, "Time to go, I am afraid! _Auf Wiedersehen, _Sergeant Schultz!"

Oskar watched Schultz's waving figure in the rearview mirror as he put the truck in gear. "Thank you, Father. Schultz is a good man, I think, but he is as curious as a squirrel and chatters just about as much."

"It was my pleasure, boy. Now, were you able to make contact with John?"

"_Ja..._he gave me the signal that he wishes to meet at Max's home tonight."

Emil looked across at his son as they were waved through the stalag gates. "Do you think he will have information about Colonel Hogan?"

Oskar frowned as he made the turn onto the Hammelburg road. "I have no idea. But I am afraid that the presence of Colonel Hogan at the stalag will mean that John will no longer be able to work with us."

"You don't know that, boy. Wait until we talk with John tonight." Emil cleared his throat. "So...I thought you were going to bring Bruno and Fritzi back today."

Oskar sighed. "That was the plan. But Wolfgang decreed otherwise."

His father chuckled. "That _Hund_ is pretty smart...I think you are wise to pay attention to him. And perhaps you should bring him along tonight."

Oskar nodded slowly. "I believe I will."

* * *

><p>In the back of the truck, Bismarck said, "That was easier than I thought...but it was nice to see that the Doctor respects your authority! Did you see Olsen's signal?"<p>

Wolfgang nodded. "Yes, he yawned and stretched...that's the signal for meeting at Max's."

Bismarck gave him a sidelong look. "I have a feeling this meeting will be about Colonel Hogan's plan. Well, you managed to get us out of camp...I hope we can be there too."

Wolfgang smiled. "Never doubt it...we'll be there."


	19. Hogan meets Mother Goose

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>Colonel Hogan watched as Schnitzer's truck rolled out the front gates and turned toward Hammelburg. He nodded to himself, and went to find Olsen.<p>

He found the young man leaning against the barracks wall, shooting the breeze with LeBeau and Baker. Hogan made a slight movement of his head, and Olsen detached himself from the building with a casual "See you later, guys."

Olsen fell into step with Hogan as he made his customary circuit of the camp perimeter. The two of them walked in silence for a few moments, not looking at each other.

"All set for tonight?" asked Hogan.

"All set, sir."

"Good." They walked on for a bit, and Hogan said, "Through the fence as before?"

"Yes, sir."

After a moment, Hogan observed, "We really need to improve our means of exiting the camp."

"Yes, sir. You know, I've been thinking...LeBeau showed me the tunnels, and there's actually an exit to the dog pen. Schnitzer varies the times of his visits, and quite often he comes at night. I think one or more people could sneak out - or in - by hiding in the back of his truck."

"Definitely a possibility. Risky for Schnitzer, though."

"I know, but I don't think he would hesitate for a moment. When you meet him and his family, you'll understand, sir."

Hogan turned his head to look at Olsen. "They are your friends, aren't they?"

Olsen met his eyes squarely. "Yes, sir, they are. And I care what happens to them. The risks they run...if caught, they face torture and execution, you know."

Hogan nodded. "And yet they take those risks."

"They want Hitler gone, sir."

Hogan sighed. "Don't we all! Well, that's what we're here for, isn't it? Olsen, I want to work closely with the members of the Resistance, and I'm hoping they will go along with my plan. Hell, my plan depends on it."

"I can't speak for them, sir, but I'm pretty sure they'll find a way."

* * *

><p>That evening after roll call, Hogan and Olsen made their way through the woods, heading toward Max's cottage about a mile distant. They were moving as quietly as possible, and had been traveling for about ten minutes when Olsen put out a hand suddenly, checking Hogan's progress. They both froze, listening intently. Then a faint rustling in the underbrush alerted them, and Hogan was startled to see Olsen drop to his knees.<p>

"Ah, it's you, is it?" Olsen said in a tone of voice Hogan hadn't heard before. Then he peered more closely at his companion. A dog had appeared out of nowhere, and Olsen was hugging it!

Hogan cleared his throat. "Friend of yours?"

Olsen looked up, and though Hogan couldn't tell in the dim light, he was pretty sure the young man was blushing. "This is Sieglinde. Max often sends one of Oskar's dogs to meet me when I have a scheduled meeting with them. He figures it's safer for me to have a dog along to alert me to any patrols." He rubbed Sieglinde's ears fondly. "And they've certainly helped me out a time or two. I'm a little surprised to see Sieglinde, though. Usually it's one of the older dogs that live at the farm."

"The farm?"

"Oskar's nephew Kurt has a farm. But you'll find out more when we get to Max's place."

"Right." He reached out a hand to help Olsen to his feet, and the three of them pushed on through the trees.

* * *

><p>In Max's cozy cottage, there were sighs of relief when the recognition code was tapped out on the back door. The Doctor looked toward the door and Max got to his feet to answer it.<p>

From his place on the hearthrug, Bismarck said to Wolfgang, "They're here! I do hope Max and the Doctor take a liking to Colonel Hogan."

Wolfgang twitched an ear. "Something tells me they aren't expecting him here tonight. But they will like him, I'm sure; they are all the same kind of humans, after all. I'm wondering if the humans in London will like the Colonel's idea, though."

Bismarck nodded. "That's a good question." Both dogs' ears pricked up as Max opened the door.

Max stepped back, startled to see a stranger on his doorstep, and the Doctor jumped to his feet. "Colonel Hogan!"

Olsen followed the Colonel through the doorway, with Sieglinde at his heels. "Sorry I couldn't let you know I was bringing the Colonel, but he has something important he would like to discuss. Colonel Hogan, this is Max, and you've probably seen Oskar at the camp. Oskar, Max, this is Colonel Hogan."

Max still looked a little dazed, but he stepped forward to shake Hogan's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Colonel. We are at your service. Please, sit down."

"Thanks, Max."

Wolfgang watched as the humans greeted each other. They didn't sniff each other, as dogs do, but Wolfgang thought they were definitely sizing each other up.

Hogan took a seat at the table and looked around the small room. His gaze fell on Wolfgang and Bismarck, who were stretched out on the hearthrug. "Seems to me I know those two fellas from somewhere."

Wolfgang woofed in reply, and the Colonel gave him a half-smile. "Should have known I'd run into you here." He turned to the Doctor. "I had a pretty good idea that you were with the Resistance, Doctor Schnitzer, after I got to know your dogs."

The Doctor smiled. "Please call me Oskar. Yes, they have been trained to be friendly to anyone wearing an Allied uniform."

"And to act threatening to anyone wearing a German uniform, from what I've seen."

"That is right."

Hogan nodded. "I can understand how you managed to train them to do that. But what amazes me is that two of my men told me the dogs saved their lives during an unsuccessful escape attempt. Plus, the big one over there...what's his name?"

"Wolfgang."

"Wolfgang has saved me from discovery twice. I have no idea how you were able to train them to do that."

The Doctor turned and looked at Wolfgang, who gazed back at him innocently. "I have no idea either, Colonel. Some things cannot be taught; they are in the heart and the soul. These dogs are very special...they live to protect others."

Bismarck nodded sagely. "That's our job."

"_Ja,_ you're right," said Wolfgang. "But it was the Doctor who gave us the opportunity to do our job. He's very far-sighted for a human."

The Colonel smiled at the two dogs on the hearthrug and at Sieglinde, who sat beside Olsen's chair with her head on his knee. "And because of you and your dogs, Oskar, I think my plan has a chance of succeeding."

Max looked at him, a crease between his brows. "Your plan, Colonel?"

Hogan sat forward slightly, his hands spread out on the tabletop. "Max, one of my men told me he tried to pass a message to Oskar here, attached to a dog's collar."

"We got the message," said Max. "But our handlers in London did not seem to agree on what we should do about it."

The Doctor sighed. "They did not want us to jeopardize our current activities by trying to help airmen who had already been captured."

Hogan nodded, his eyes very serious. "Understandable. And in no way do I want to endanger you and your group any more than you are already. But I think if we work together, perhaps the men of Luftstalag 13 can help you, instead."

Max and the Doctor stared at him. Finally, Schnitzer said, "But what can you mean?"

"I mean that I have three hundred men under my command who are eager to rejoin the fight. I want to establish a base of operations right here in Hammelburg, and provide manpower for anything that we can plan together to help defeat the Nazi war machine."

"You would work with us?" Max seemed to have trouble assimilating this.

"We can't do it without your group, Max," Hogan said. "We'll need to clear it with London, of course, but I think there are many things we can do to help defeat Hitler, right here in Hammelburg."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "You are right. Together, we can do much."

"But my first thought is to provide a safe house at Luftstalag 13 for evaders, and for escapers from other POW camps."

The Doctor blinked. "You would have them take refuge in a POW camp?"

Max had a wide grin on his face. "It is a brilliant idea! Far safer, too, than for us to hide them at Kurt's farm as we have been doing. And when they are properly equipped and healthy enough for the journey, we in the Resistance will escort them to Belgium."

"Belgium?"

The Doctor said, "That is where we have taken the downed fliers we have encountered so far, Colonel Hogan. The escape line through Belgium has been very successful, but it has also been plagued by informers, and many of the Resistance workers were captured by the Gestapo."

"The line was broken up for a time," said Max, "but they have reorganized, and I am sure we shall be able to send airmen along soon. But it is a dangerous trip, Colonel, with many handoffs along the way to different Resistance workers."

"Where do they go from Belgium?"

"The men are taken through France, and cross the Pyrenees into Spain, then to Gilbraltar and eventually to England."

Hogan whistled. "Long trip."

"And, as I said, a very dangerous one...checkpoints every step of the way."

Hogan frowned. "I was hoping the airmen could return to England by a more direct route...by water."

Max shook his head. "Colonel, the North Sea coast is ringed with islands, and the mudflats make navigation very difficult, even if it weren't heavily patrolled...which it is."

Oskar said slowly, "There might be a way...if the Allies could provide a ship capable of evading the patrols. My cousin Klaus is a fisherman; he lives on the coast a little north of the city of Emden. He told me once that he knows of a navigable channel through the island chain that is not mapped on any sea chart, and I am sure he would be happy to share his knowledge with the British Navy. No one hates Hitler more than he."

Max sat up straight in his chair, his eyes glowing. "But of course! If we could establish a German escape line, and handle the airmen within Germany itself and take them directly to the coast, without having to involve the Belgian and French Resistance workers..."

Hogan nodded. "Sounds like it would be better for everyone, doesn't it?"

Olsen had been sitting quietly, just listening to the discussion, but he spoke up now. "Certainly faster, and it would endanger far fewer people, I think. Colonel, it's almost time for the radio contact."

"Good." Hogan grinned. "Time to let the brass know about our brilliant idea."

Bismarck was grinning too. "I love it when humans finally understand the concept of cooperation."

"Yes, but will their leaders agree to the plan?" asked Sieglinde.

Wolfgang gave Hogan a thoughtful look. "I think the Colonel could talk me into believing that cats aren't inherently evil. Something tells me he'll convince them."


	20. The London connection, part 2

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>"Time to let London know what's going on, Olsen." Hogan looked around the small room. "Max, you have your shortwave in here?"<p>

"Right here, Colonel." Max moved across the room to where a bureau stood against the wall. He shoved it aside to reveal an alcove containing the shortwave apparatus.

Olsen nodded his thanks and went to the radio, putting the headphones over his ears. He switched it on and tilted his head, listening intently as he tuned it in to the secret frequency.

"This is Prince Charming, calling Old King Cole. Come in, Old King Cole."

Hogan's eyebrows shot up and he could see Olsen turning red.

"I didn't choose the name, Colonel..." Olsen switched his attention back to the shortwave. "Yes, this is Prince Charming. Yes, sir...he's right here, sir. One moment, please." He took off the headphones and handed them to Hogan.

Hogan put on the headphones and took the microphone from Olsen. "This is Colonel Robert Hogan."

The headphones crackled, then General Butler's all-too familiar booming voice came through. "Hogan! It's good to hear your voice. Are you ready to come home?"

Hogan's response was unhesitating. "No, sir."

_"No?" _The General had evidently intended his question to be a rhetorical one, and his exclamation over Hogan's response was explosive, accompanied by a burst of static. Hogan pulled the headphones away from his ears, grimacing, and he looked around the room at the circle of interested faces, both canine and human. Sieglinde had raised her head from Olsen's knee, and all three dogs had their ears pricked up. The three other humans in the room had the same look of close attention on their faces, albeit minus the pricked-up-ear part.

Hogan caught Wolfgang's eye, and the dog gave him a reassuring nod.

Without waiting for a reply, Butler spoke again.

"Listen, Hogan, I've got a submarine standing by for you..."

Hogan's eyes widened. "A _sub?"_

"Yes, a sub, damn it!"

"Why didn't I think of that?" Hogan mused. "It's perfect! We were hoping you could send us a ship, but a sub will be even better. Listen, sir, I really appreciate what you had in mind for me, but it just so happens I've got a better idea for that sub."

There was a lengthy pause, then the General said with a tone of resignation, "I should have known. You have a plan, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, I do. With your permission, sir, I'd like to stay here and work with Mother Goose to help airmen get back to England...among other things."

"You mean you want to join the Resistance forces?"

"In a way, sir, but using my camp as a base."

"You want to work out of a _POW_ _camp?"_

"It'll be a terrific alibi, sir."

"I can just imagine."

Hogan said persuasively, "I believe the situation has great potential, sir. The camp is small; twenty barracks, not all of them occupied. About three hundred, three hundred fifty prisoners. Buildings close to the ground, compound surrounded by woods."

"But our information has it that there is a huge camp just outside of Hammelburg."

"We're on the other side...about three miles from town."

"Hmph...sounds like an interesting setup. And you think you'll have cooperation from the other prisoners for this idea of yours?"

"Cooperation? Sir, I've been here several weeks and I've gotten to know these men. I have no doubts whatsoever."

"And how do you plan to avoid the attention of the Krauts there? What about the guy who runs the camp?"

"The Kommandant? I feel quite confident he will be susceptible to manipulation. And some of the guards will be open to bribery, as well. I know we can make this work, sir. But we will need outside help, of course."

There was an audible sigh from the General's end. "It's so crazy it just might work. Okay, you'll get your outside help. Get specific details to us on how the sub can be of use to you, and get together a list of things you'll need so Mama Bear can arrange parachute drops."

"Parachute drops? Yes, sir!"

Butler went on, "I'm willing to turn you over to SOE for your day to day assignments, but you will remain under my command, and believe me, I'll be taking an interest in your activities."

"Yes, sir."

"Hell! I'll have to justify your operation to the High Command. They'll want to know what you're up to, so I'll spell it out for them, and for you, too. This will be your overall mission, Hogan..."

Hogan said over his shoulder, "Olsen, I need you to write this down."

Max hurriedly handed Olsen a pad of paper and a stub of a pencil.

Hogan listened closely as Butler gave him a brief statement, and said, "Yes, sir. Just a moment, sir." He covered the microphone with one hand and turned to Olsen. "Okay, Olsen, these are our orders: 'You will assist escaping prisoners, cooperate with all friendly forces, and use every means to harass and injure the enemy.' Got that, Olsen?"

"Got it, Colonel."

In his ear, Hogan heard Butler's voice again. "That's all from me; I'll hand you off to Mama Bear now. But...take care of yourself, son."

Hogan's throat felt unaccountably tight. "Thank you, sir, I will."

An unfamiliar voice came over the headphones then. "Mama Bear here. Just wanted to say: Welcome aboard, old boy."

Hogan grinned. He verified the time of the next contact, and asked a few brief questions, then he signed off and turned to Olsen, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That's it, Olsen. You have just witnessed a rare example of Allied cooperation. Our contact in London will be British: code name, Mama Bear."

Max and Schnitzer exchanged satisfied smiles, and the dogs all seemed to be smiling too.

Olsen asked, "And your code name, Colonel?"

"What else? Papa Bear!"

...

While the humans were talking, Sieglinde looked at the two older dogs with a determined glint in her eye. "I want to be a guard dog at the camp, too."

Wolfgang was surprised. "Thought you wanted to stay at the farm and look after things there."

"Albrecht and Günther are at the farm to keep an eye on things, Wolfgang. I think you will need me at the camp now, with all the new Allied airmen who will be passing through. And my brothers have been on guard duty for a long time now...isn't it time I took my turn at it?"

Bismarck chuckled. "She's quite correct, old chap. Luftstalag 13 is about to become a very busy place, I believe. And I have no doubt that you will easily convince the Doctor to put Sieglinde into the rotation."

Wolfgang nodded thoughtfully. Sieglinde had always been the shy one of the pups; she was uncomfortable around humans, except for the Schnitzers and Max, and of course Olsen. But she was grown up now, and she was ready to do her part for the Resistance, it seemed. Well, they could certainly use her help at the stalag.

Wolfgang glanced at the four humans, who were all busy making plans. _We dogs will be ready, but __I wonder if the humans realize just what they have gotten themselves into?_


	21. A new man in camp

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love. _

_A few lines of dialogue from the episode "The Informer" are included in this chapter._

* * *

><p>The year 1942 was drawing to a close and the war was not going well for the Allies. As a savage struggle took place at Guadalcanal in the Pacific and Operation Torch took its first tottering steps in North Africa, the agony of besieged Leningrad and the brutal Battle of Stalingrad raged on the Eastern Front. Meanwhile, the seemingly never-ending Battle of the Atlantic threatened Britain's lifeline of desperately needed food and supplies.<p>

But at a small and insignificant POW camp in the heart of Germany, hope and determination ran high. And just outside the camp, a bewildered young man waited in the dark...

...

Andrew was nothing but a big fake. A fraud, that's what he was.

Not on purpose, of course. He'd been studying to become a bombardier when his unit was called unexpectedly to England, so he was real happy when his promotion finally came through - he was raring to do the job he had trained for. And it was a proud day for sure when his CO pinned his shiny new lieutenant's bars to his collar, and his best buddy Joe bought him a beer to celebrate and everything.

But the next day, before he even had a chance to write home to his folks with the good news, his CO came running up, just as Andrew was about to swing himself into the nose of his plane.

"Carter! Sorry to tell you...your promotion was a mistake...Albert Carter in the 303rd was supposed to get it."

Andrew stared at him, his heart sinking into his thermally-lined boots. "What do I do? I'm supposed to be bombardier on this mission!"

"Don't worry!" Smithers shouted over the roar of the engines revving up. "Just carry on - we'll get the snafu taken care of when you get back!"

So Andrew clambered aboard the plane, determined to justify his presence as bombardier, even if he wasn't really a lieutenant yet. And when he got back to England, boy, he'd show them! He'd earn his promotion fair and square..._if_ he ever got back to England.

The bomb run went real good, to Andrew's relief: the intercom crackled with the guys cheering after Andrew dropped their payload over the target and the fuel refinery far below erupted in flames.

But a few minutes later a horde of Messerschmitts descended and really let them have it, and the B-17 was done for. As Andrew checked his parachute harness he looked over at his buddy Joe, who was navigator on the flight and shared the nose space with him.

Joe's eyes were blank, and his body was slumped over his instruments. Andrew was frozen with shock for a moment, but there was no time to grieve. He gently moved Joe's body aside so he could reach the escape hatch, and he bailed out.

Within half an hour he was picked up by the Gestapo, and on his way to Dulag Luft. Terrified, and not sure how to explain his true status, Andrew kept quiet about really being just a sergeant, and so he was sent to an Oflag - Stalag 5.

At Stalag 5, Andrew was the sole American prisoner, and he wondered sadly what had happened to the rest of his crew; were they all gone, just like Joe? The British officers at the camp were kind enough, and understanding of what he had gone through, but he couldn't seem to connect with them. It was like they didn't even speak the same language.

Andrew could speak German, Lakota, and American English, but English as spoken by his fellow prisoners at Stalag 5 was a whole 'nother thing.

And if Kommandant Vogel and the British bigwigs at camp ever found out he wasn't really a lieutenant...gosh, Andrew had no idea _where_ he'd end up. Probably someplace even worse than Stalag 5. He knew impersonating an officer was a real bad thing in his own army, and he could just imagine how the Krauts would look at it.

So he figured he'd get out while the getting was good. The sooner he got back to England and earned his bars for real, the better.

Digging the tunnel wasn't so bad; it went a lot faster than he thought it would, and nobody seemed to notice when he disappeared for hours each day to work on it. And when he finally made it out of camp, he took off like a bat out of you-know-where.

He had only a hazy plan in mind for getting out of Germany. He thought maybe he could break into a house and steal some food and clothing before he tried to hike to the coast. Not that stealing was an okay thing to do; Andrew had been brought up to know better. But there was a war on, you know?

Fortunately, the house he chose to break into happened to belong to a member of the Resistance, and after a scary initial encounter, Andrew realized that this man would help with his escape. And over the next few days he found himself shuttled from one house to another, under cover of darkness.

Finally, he was directed to an area of woods outside of the little town of Hammelburg.

"Wait here," his guide told him. "Help will come."

So Andrew waited. And waited. Then he took a cautious look around; through the trees he could see a high wire fence and watchtowers with searchlights. What the heck...he was right outside a prison camp! Andrew ducked down in the underbrush again and hoped the Krauts wouldn't spot him before the promised help arrived.

Next thing he knew somebody tripped over him in the dark, and then grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him upright. Andrew found himself staring at a friendly face. And the voice was American!

"Now, you're right where you should be, Lieutenant." The man peered at him more closely. "You're Carter."

"Yeah, right." Andrew's voice was more harsh than he intended, but he'd just had a terrible fright. "But what am I doing here? I just busted out of another prison camp!"

"Well, welcome to Camp 13. You're busting in...gimme your jacket."

As Andrew obediently exchanged his cap and jacket with the other guy, he protested, "You don't know how long it took me to dig my way out of that other camp!"

The other guy assured him that getting in was a lot easier. Andrew didn't doubt that for a minute, but the whole idea seemed crazy to him. When he tried to find out more, the other guy apparently didn't have enough time to explain.

"They'll tell you on the inside." He zipped up his (which used to be Andrew's) jacket. "Dogs are on the way. Good luck."

Andrew panicked. "_Dogs?_ Hey, wait a minute..."

...

_"Sound the alarm! Let loose the_ _dogs!"_

It was the moment Sieglinde and Gerhardt had been waiting for. The dogs were all aware that Olsen was scheduled to make an escape tonight, to allow an escaper from another POW camp to take temporary refuge at Luftstalag 13. This wasn't the only method Colonel Hogan and his men had used over the past few months to get escapers and evaders into the camp, but it had proved to be quite effective, and at least tonight the Doctor and his truck weren't directly involved.

And it did make for a bit of excitement, since it was the dogs' job to round up the new man and see to it that he was safely captured and brought inside the camp without excessive fuss, and more importantly, without anyone getting hurt - dog or human. So with the spice of danger - the guards were carrying guns, after all - and the thrill of the chase, it wasn't a bad way at all to spend an evening.

Still, Sieglinde was anxious. She considered Olsen to be her own particular human, and it troubled her to see him risk his life on these escapades. He was only doing his job, she knew, and everyone had to do his or her part, but still she worried. Gerhardt, on the other hand, was just happy for the opportunity to run free outside the compound.

As the siren sounded, the gate to the dog pen was opened by Corporal Kohl, and the dogs poured out and raced for the front gates. Once outside, Wolfgang assigned them to their search areas, and the group split up.

Sieglinde and her brother bounded through the woods west of camp, with the cold night air sharp in their nostrils and the wind ruffling their fur. Sieglinde's heart was pounding with excitement. _I hope we're the ones to find the new human!_

They were in luck: she soon caught Olsen's scent and that of a stranger. They headed for a small clearing in the woods, barking ferociously.

Olsen was there with another human, the flier they had come to protect and bring back to camp. As the two dogs arrived, Olsen shook his head at their barking, and said affectionately, "Not yet, stupid - a_fter_ I get clear!"

Abashed, Sieglinde and Gerhardt quit barking and sat down. Gerhardt muttered in a gloomy aside to his sister, "Did he _have_ to call us stupid?"

Sieglinde chose to view it in a philosophical light, mainly because Olsen could do no wrong in her eyes. "He just wants to reassure the new man that we aren't dangerous," she told Gerhardt firmly. "Especially since we've got to bark our heads off again as soon as Olsen leaves."

"Oh."

Olsen bade the new man goodbye, and glanced back at the two dogs with a smile. Then he was gone, and Sieglinde and Gerhardt promptly started barking again as the sirens intensified and the sweeping searchlights from the camp watchtowers found the clearing.

The new man put his hands in the air, blinking at the searchlights, but he was steady on his feet as he awaited capture. Sieglinde was glad to see that he didn't seem to be afraid of her and Gerhardt, even after they started barking again. And in a very short time, Hildegard and their mother Frieda arrived, with Corporal Kohl and Private Kurtz on leash.

The new man was taken into custody, with Kohl and Kurtz assuming that he was the man who had just escaped, and the four dogs chuckling over the gullibility of humans. And soon the entire group of humans and canines headed back to camp.

Sieglinde and her brother brought up the rear of the procession, and as they trotted along Gerhardt commented that he'd lost track of all the times they'd brought a new man into camp.

"But you know," he mused, "this time it seems different."

Sieglinde turned her head to give him a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"This one's special," said Gerhardt. "You'll see."


	22. Another new man in camp

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

Missing scenes from "The Informer". A few lines of dialogue from the episode are included.

* * *

><p>"Did I pass?" <em>Leutnant <em>Richard Wagner looked at Colonel Hogan with all the innocence he could muster.

"Oh, yeah...flying colors. Look, if you want anything, just ask, all right?" The Colonel chatted a few minutes more, with Wagner doing his best to respond appropriately, and then Hogan took his leave.

Wagner watched as the American colonel walked away toward his quarters, and he gave an inward sigh of relief. If only _Oberst_ Burkhalter knew how terrified he was in this new assignment, working undercover in a POW camp! But then, if Wagner had confided his misgivings to the overbearing and obese _Oberst_, Burkhalter would have had him at the Russian front in a twinkling.

Best to lie low and just do as he had been instructed. Wagner felt himself relaxing slightly now that he had been approved by the Senior POW Officer himself. There had been a few moments during their little talk when Hogan's eyes had narrowed, and Wagner's heart had been in his throat, but then the two of them were laughing together and the dangerous moment had passed. Maybe this assignment would go better than he had thought...

Wagner got to his feet and headed for his newly assigned bunk, colliding with one of the other prisoners on the way. The other prisoner coughed and apologized, and Wagner smiled slightly. The barracks was uncomfortably crowded; it was no wonder people were bumping into each other. Probably not the best place to try to talk with the other prisoners either, he thought, as he looked around the busy room.

The next morning he decided he couldn't take the close confines any longer, so he went outdoors to walk in the compound and get some fresh air. As he circled around the delousing station, he met up with one of the men he had seen in Barracks 2 earlier, a young man who wore the flight jacket of an American sergeant. The POW had been asleep at the time and so Wagner had not yet spoken to him.

But the sergeant, whom Wagner judged to be a few years younger than himself, proved to be quite talkative now that he was awake. Wagner didn't have to probe or ask any sneaky questions; after they had introduced themselves, Andrew Carter was more than willing to discuss everything he had observed since arriving at the camp.

"You just got here yesterday, didn't you? I got here the night before, and boy, oh boy! This place is fantastic, isn't it?"

"It is?" Wagner had a very good command of colloquial American English - one of the regrettably few areas in which he felt competent - but he wasn't quite sure what Carter meant by his question. "Do you mean 'fantastic' as in unbelievable, or 'fantastic' as in wonderful?"

Carter turned wide blue eyes on him. "Both, I guess. Can you believe it? Colonel Hogan says I'll be out of here in a day or two! I can't thank these guys enough for helping me out. What with Sergeant Minsk making me a suit so I'll look like a regular German civilian, and Corporal Newkirk putting identity papers together for me, and Corporal LeBeau giving me a haircut tonight, and Colonel Hogan planning the whole thing..." Carter seemed momentarily at a loss for words, so he used the same one again. "It's just fantastic! And to think I'll be the 499th guy they've sent back to England. Gee, Wagner...maybe you'll be next. They're throwing a party for the five hundredth man!"

Wagner felt a little dazed. Colonel Hogan was somehow sending POWs back to England? These POWs were being outfitted with papers and civilian clothing? _F__our hundred ninety-nine of them? _How could _Oberst_ Klink possibly not know about this? Oh, wait, even Wagner was able to intimidate that guy; no doubt Colonel Hogan had no trouble pulling the wool over Klink's eyes.

One thing was certain, though. If he did not report the activities of these erstwhile _T__errorflieger,_ _Oberst_ Burkhalter would ensure that Wagner would no longer be working undercover...he would be providing target practice for some very angry Russians instead.

But it was a shame really, and Wagner tried to push aside his sense of guilt. _Terrorflieger _or not, Carter seemed like such a nice fellow.

...

Andrew found himself chatting away with the Wagner guy as though they'd known each other for years. He had a feeling Wagner knew what it was like to screw up and have other people look at you like you were crazy or something. He'd probably understand too, what it was like to be mistaken for somebody he wasn't. Andrew just knew that he could tell Wagner anything and not worry that the guy was judging him.

But he did wonder if he was rattling on too much. "Say, if I'm talking too much, I'm sorry! I guess when I'm nervous I just can't help it."

"I know what you mean," Wagner confessed. "I start to bluster and sound belligerent when I get scared."

Andrew gave him a sympathetic smile. "Seems like we got plenty of reasons for being scared, being in enemy territory and all. But you know, it's gonna be okay after all. We're here at Stalag 13, but not for long. You know, you sure are lucky, being brought right here after you were captured. I had to dig out of Stalag 5, and then I had to be captured all over again to get in here!"

Wagner looked at Andrew sort of funny. "That's strange. I suppose I am lucky, since I didn't have to go through all that."

Andrew dug his hands in his pockets as they wandered past the water tower. "I can't wait to get back to England."

"You have a girl there?"

Andrew grinned and shook his head. "Nope. My girl's back home, and I won't get to see her until this doggone war is over. I sure want it to end soon."

Wagner sighed. "Me too."

"That's why I want to get back to England so bad, 'cause I've got a job to do. I have to do my bit to help end the war, you know. Even if I'm scared. Even if I don't really like what I'm doing. You understand what I mean?"

"I understand," Wagner said sadly. "We have no choice but to do the jobs we have been given."

...

The dogs watched both of the men walking in the direction of the recreation hall, but the object of their concern was the tall dark-haired one named Wagner.

Gerhardt was almost bouncing up and down in his anxiety. "There's something wrong with that new human Wagner, I just know it! And he's talking to Carter, the human we brought into camp the night before last. This can't be good."

"I know," replied Wolfgang, as he twitched a thoughtful ear. "Wagner is not an American, despite the way he speaks and the uniform he wears. He is German...you can tell by the way he holds himself, and by the way he walks and the hand gestures he uses."

Frieda cocked her head and regarded their leader curiously. "A German, pretending to be an American? Does Wagner smell like a Nazi to you, Wolfgang?"

"No," said Wolfgang. "He smells like an idiot. And idiots can be very dangerous. On the other hand, Colonel Hogan is not an idiot, and no doubt has already figured him out. Which means we'll need to be ready to react at a moment's notice to any changes in plan."

"Olsen is due back tomorrow," Friedrich reminded him.

"That's right," piped up Sieglinde. "Operation Rover is supposed to commence at eleven: we are to make a great fuss when the Doctor arrives, to help conceal Olsen as he moves from the truck to the tunnel entrance here in the pen, and Carter gets into the truck in his place."

Wolfgang nodded slowly. "_Ja,_ that's the usual plan. But with the false American Wagner here in camp, it might not be safe for Olsen or Carter. We'll need to keep our eyes and ears open and take appropriate action if something unexpected happens. The Doctor and Colonel Hogan are counting on us."


	23. Operation Rover

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

More missing scenes from "The Informer". Some lines of dialogue from the episode are included.

* * *

><p>"Colonel, why don't we get rid of this guy? He knows too much."<p>

"It's not that he knows too much - he doesn't know enough! Let's show him the whole operation!"

"_What?"_

"Take 'im _underground?"_

_...  
><em>

Outside Barracks 2, lurking in the shadows, two dogs were listening intently to the conversation within. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

"I thought you said Colonel Hogan wasn't an idiot," Frieda remarked.

"Evidently I spoke too soon," replied Wolfgang. "His proposed method of dealing with Wagner sounds most alarming to me...wait! There's Wagner now, coming out of the the Kommandantur. We'd better get back to the pen."

They edged along the building, and waited tensely as a guard strolled by. Luckily no other obstacles confronted them and Wolfgang and Frieda were soon back at the dog pen. Gerhardt pushed the gate open for them and they hurried inside. But Gerhardt had no sooner re-latched the gate than they were aware that three humans were approaching the pen stealthily: Colonel Hogan, LeBeau, and the false American Wagner.

Wolfgang and Frieda had no time to share what they had just heard with the others, unfortunately; LeBeau ran up to the dog pen, whispering "Get away! Get away!" as he swung the gate open.

Alarmed, Gerhardt jumped up at him. "No, LeBeau! Don't bring Wagner in here...he's a bad human!"

"Not now, Gerhardt!" LeBeau hissed, and Gerhardt was forced to subside.

Colonel Hogan led a blindfolded Wagner inside the pen, and LeBeau tilted one of the doghouses up to reveal the trap door to the tunnel. All the dogs backed away except Gerda, who stubbornly refused to move aside from the trap door. But at an urgent gesture from the Colonel she reluctantly got to her feet, and joined the other dogs at the far end of the dog pen.

All the dogs sat and watched as the Colonel and LeBeau went through an elaborate pantomime, apparently trying to convince the blindfolded Wagner that he was actually standing underneath the water tower. Then the two assisted Wagner to climb down into the tunnel, and the doghouse was lowered into place.

The assembled dogs were stunned for a moment, and they all looked to Wolfgang.

"What on earth?" Friedrich said, speaking for all of them.

Wolfgang sighed. "Wagner was inadvertently told of some of the secret activities of the prisoners here, and he reported this to Colonel Burkhalter; Colonel Burkhalter will be coming here tomorrow morning at eight to investigate. But Colonel Hogan figures that if Wagner is shown everything that goes on underground, no one will believe him when he tries to tell Burkhalter all about it."

"It sounds pretty chancy to me," Gerda fretted. "Humans are unpredictable creatures. What if Colonel Burkhalter believes Wagner after all?"

"And Operation Rover is supposed to commence when the Doctor brings Fritzi and Bismarck back tomorrow at eleven," said Hildegard. "How will Carter and Olsen manage to change places if Colonel Burkhalter is here?"

Sieglinde had been off in a corner of the pen by herself, remaining unusually quiet, but at this point she spoke up. "Listen, everyone!"

They all fell silent, and then they heard it. The Twilight Barking was in progress.

It was very faint, and they all strained their ears to hear. Willi, a Weimaraner who lived almost half a mile away, was baying with all his might. The message came through in bits and pieces to most of the guard dogs, but Sieglinde's acute hearing saved the day. After Willi signed off, she turned to her companions.

"It's a message from Bismarck. Colonel Hogan has notified the Doctor about the impostor Wagner, and Operation Rover will be three hours earlier than originally planned. And Bismarck says that he and Fritzi have everything under control."

"The Doctor is coming when Colonel Burkhalter is due to arrive?" Wolfgang frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder what Bismarck has in mind..."

"We'll find out tomorrow," Friedrich said, with a touch of gloom.

...

The next morning, the dogs watched anxiously as the prisoners lined up for a roll call presided over by Colonel Burkhalter. It appeared the impostor Wagner was giving an excited report to the Colonel, and by the tense postures of the assembled prisoners, Wolfgang knew something dangerous was going on there.

"Gerhardt," he said quietly, "release the gate latch, but leave the gate closed."

"_Jawohl,_ Wolfgang."

The other dogs looked at him inquiringly, and Wolfgang said in a grim tone, "We may be needed for a diversion, and I want to be ready."

They turned their attention again to the drama being enacted in the compound. Wagner was getting more agitated, and then he pulled out a gun and fired it! The dogs all got to their feet at that, but the humans were not reacting in an anxious manner, so Wolfgang said, "No, wait. Not yet."

Wagner then strode over to the water tower, followed by Burkhalter. Apparently believing he was about to reveal the secret tunnel, Wagner pulled on the chain that released the water, drenching the Colonel, who seemed not at all happy with the proceedings.

Then Doctor Schnitzer's truck appeared at the other end of the compound, and Wagner seemed to lose all control. He raced over to the truck and ordered the Doctor to stop.

The dogs watched aghast as Wagner argued with the Doctor, and then pushed him aside to grab at the handle of the rear door of the truck.

"Olsen's hiding in the truck," cried Gerda. "That evil human Wagner will see him for certain!"

But as Wagner wrenched the doors open, he was immediately engulfed by six dogs who leapt from the back of the truck, barking ferociously.

Wolfgang grinned as he watched the dogs run hither and thither, scattering the prisoners and terrifying the guards. Only Bismarck and Fritzi were supposed to have returned today, but somehow all the off-duty dogs and even Albrecht and Günther, the two older dogs who had retired over a year ago, were here, and they were turning the camp upside down. Wolfgang wondered how Bismarck and Fritzi had managed to arrange this, but he decided that question could wait till later.

He turned to the other dogs in the pen. "Gerhardt, Sieglinde...go on out there and add to the confusion. Everyone else, start barking!"

As the ruckus continued, Bismarck, Fritzi, Hans and Bruno, joined by Gerhardt and Sieglinde, tore around the compound, barking madly and evading the guards who chased them. Albrecht and Günther planted themselves in front of Colonel Burkhalter and Colonel Klink and concentrated on intimidating them.

Günther, ordinarily the most mild-mannered of dogs, revealed an unexpected flair for the dramatic as he snarled at the two men, causing both of them to shiver in their boots. Colonel Klink waved his riding crop at them in an ineffectual attempt to control the situation, but the two dogs gleefully ignored his gesture and continued to bark and growl in an exceedingly menacing fashion.

And while all this was going on, Colonel Hogan and Carter slipped around behind the crowd to reach the truck. Olsen jumped out and Carter jumped in, and Colonel Hogan slammed the doors shut.

Wolfgang wondered if Colonel Hogan noticed that Gerhardt had jumped into the truck along with Carter, and then shook his head. He would have to have a long talk with that youngster when Gerhardt got back to camp.

...

In the back of the truck, Andrew gave a great sigh of relief as it lurched into motion. He had thought they were all goners for sure after that Wagner guy started spouting off to Colonel Burkhalter. But just as Colonel Hogan had predicted, nobody believed him.

It was strange, though. After all that had happened, Andrew felt kinda sorry for the guy.

"Maybe he got drafted, and they made him do it," he told the dog who was sharing the back of the truck with him. "He seemed like such a nice guy when I was talking to him." He sighed, and rubbed the dog's ears. "Well, at least I'm heading back to England. Got a job to do, you know."

Man and dog were quiet together for a time as the truck rumbled along. Then Andrew spoke again, hesitantly. "Those guys back there were doing a job too, though. It was kinda neat to see them all working together. They were all friends, you could tell. Even when they were arguing with each other, like Kinch and LeBeau did all the time. At least I think they were arguing...it was in French so maybe it was just a regular conversation, I guess."

There was another silent pause and the dog snuggled closer to Andrew, whining softly, and Andrew smiled sadly. "You miss your buddies back at camp, huh? I miss my buddies, too. My best buddy Joe died, you know. And I don't know what happened to the other guys...I hope they're okay. Maybe they're at some other prison camp. Hey, maybe if they escaped, Colonel Hogan and the guys at Stalag 13 could help them out!"

The dog woofed, and Andrew sat up straight. "That would be great, wouldn't it? Boy, they sure are doing good work back there at Stalag 13, and the Krauts don't even know it! Well, actually Wagner knew it, but they didn't believe him." He paused for a moment, thinking. "I really messed up this time, didn't I? I shoulda known not to talk to a new guy without Colonel Hogan saying it was okay first. I wish I could remember to think before I shoot off my mouth like that."

The dog rubbed his head against Andrew's sleeve in a comforting sort of way and Andrew smiled. "But it sure was nice of Newkirk to take the blame for not warning me about Wagner. He didn't have to do that, you know. He's a pretty good guy, just like all the rest of them at Stalag 13. Must be nice to work with a bunch of guys like that."

The dog whined again and Andrew nodded. "Yeah, I could see myself helping them out. I can speak German pretty good, you know...I bet that would come in handy. And I bet Sergeant Minsk could teach me to sew or something." He sighed again. "But they'd probably be pretty mad at me if I didn't go back to England after all, considering all the trouble they went to, getting me ready and everything."

He stroked the dog's fur. "But for two cents I'd do it! I'd go back there, and I'd do my darnedest to help Colonel Hogan with his operation."

...

Gerhardt rested his head on Carter's knee. He had known that Carter was special from the time he first met him in the woods, and he wondered why the humans at the camp hadn't recognized that, and insisted that Carter stay with them to help, rather than sending him away to the place called England.

Humans could be so dense sometimes.


	24. Carter returns

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

Epilogue to "The Informer" episode, and an addendum to my "Welcome Back, Carter" story, from a different point of view.

* * *

><p>Frieda and Hildegard had just returned from morning foot patrol that mild December morning, and the dogs all watched incuriously as the guards at the front gates allowed a bicyclist into the compound. This had happened many times before; bicycle messengers and delivery boys had often visited the camp.<p>

This new arrival was an elderly human, and as he parked the bike by the Kommandantur, Gerhardt got to his feet and moved closer to the wall of the enclosure.

Bruno trotted to his side, wondering what had caught his brother's interest. "What is it?"

"That human..." Gerhardt pushed his nose into a gap in the wire and sniffed, but the wind was in the wrong direction for him to get any olfactory information about the man. "I think it's...but it can't be..._J__a, ja,_ it is! It's Carter, he's back!"

_"What?"_ Wolfgang joined the two younger dogs and stared at the man who had by now hoisted a box from the basket of his bicycle and was climbing the steps of the Kommandantur porch. "You must be mistaken! Why would he come back here? He was supposed to be on his way to England two weeks ago!" He narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air too. "I can tell you that this human is only pretending to be elderly, but that doesn't necessarily mean that...wait, I just got a whiff of him! Gerhardt, you're right...but don't act excited, we don't want to draw attention to the man."

Frieda gazed at her son sympathetically. "I am sorry that Carter did not make it back to England after all, my dear."

"Well, I'm not sorry!" said Gerhardt. "You don't understand, _Mutter. _Carter wants to be here, and he _should_ be here! I'm sure he can help Colonel Hogan."

The guard on duty on the Kommandantur porch opened the door for Carter, and he went inside. The dogs looked at each other and at length Friedrich said, "Very dangerous for Carter to come to the camp openly like this, even if he is disguised."

"True." Wolfgang's ears twitched thoughtfully. "But how else could he let the prisoners know he's back? The emergency tunnel was not yet functional when he left here two weeks ago."

Carter emerged from the Kommandantur a few moments later, minus the box he had been carrying. He paused to adjust his cap, and descended the steps, heading for his bicycle. And as the dogs watched, a commotion took place across the compound; not a big commotion, just a minor misunderstanding between a guard and two prisoners, but enough to distract the other humans in the compound.

The next thing they knew, Kinch had crossed the prison yard to where Carter was fussing with his bike, and it was evident the two were talking.

"Contact," Wolfgang said briefly. "Wonder what will happen next?"

* * *

><p>That evening after roll call and the usual foot patrol inside the wire with the guards, Dieter and Bruno were assigned reconnaissance duty in the compound. It was fortunate that they completed their rounds quickly, for almost as soon as they had returned and reported to Wolfgang, the dogs were surprised by the approach of the Kommandant himself, with Kurtz and Kohl in anxious attendance.<p>

Colonel Klink stopped abruptly outside the dog pen, at what he presumably considered a safe distance from the slavering beasts. "Corporal Kohl," he announced, "you and Private Kurtz will conduct a patrol tonight outside the wire. The foolish escape attempts are getting out of hand, and nothing must interfere with my perfect record at Luftstalag 13!"

_"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!"_

A few hours later, Friedrich and Gerhardt were the lucky dogs chosen for the night patrol. As the two of them headed for the front gates with the guards on leash, Gerhardt said, "I wonder what they think they'll find out there?"

Friedrich shrugged. "Probably nothing. They're just obeying orders; I doubt if they want to be out here roaming around any more than we do. Just remember that we have to lead them away from the emergency tunnel."

_"Jawohl,_ Friedrich!" Gerhardt replied, and Friedrich grinned.

The two guards split up outside the gate; Corporal Kohl decided to circle the camp in a clockwise fashion with Friedrich, while Private Kurtz would be circling counter-clockwise with Gerhardt.

The mild weather had turned, and a hard frost made the grass crunchy with ice particles. Gerhardt thought morosely that even snow would be preferable underfoot, but he had no choice in the matter. He trudged along with Kurtz in his wake, and it really didn't give him any satisfaction to know that Kurtz was thinking longingly of his bunk, just as Gerhardt was thinking longingly of the cozy doghouse he shared with Bruno.

About halfway through their circuit Gerhardt became aware that humans were close by. He was careful not to reveal his sudden alertness to Kurtz, but he lifted his head and sniffed carefully. Kinch was near, and Carter was with him. And both of them were very close to the emergency tunnel, Gerhardt thought. Time to divert the guard.

Gerhardt came to a sudden stop, and the half-asleep Kurtz almost plowed into him. Kurtz apologized, then said, "What is it? What is wrong?"

Subtlety was wasted on Kurtz, so Gerhardt pointed his nose in the opposite direction of the emergency tunnel, and emitted a low growl. He began to tug on the leash, dragging Kurtz along with him. After a few moments, he broke into a run, but when Kurtz began to huff and puff, Gerhardt relented and slowed down to a walk.

It didn't take long to get a safe distance from the tunnel entrance, and Gerhardt stopped again, and again Kurtz almost plowed into him.

"I wish you would give me some warning before you do that," Kurtz complained, although it was apparent he had no hope of Gerhardt actually attending to him.

Gerhardt hid a grin, and then began to look all around him in a bewildered fashion. He gave an apologetic whine, looking up at the guard.

"Lost the scent, have you? Well, it is time for us to return anyway." They headed back for the camp, encountering Friedrich and Kohl on the way. Kohl reported observing nothing, and Kurtz reported the same.

"Just one false alarm, that was all."

* * *

><p>Back in the pen, Gerhardt and Friedrich reported to Wolfgang, who had been waiting up for their return.<p>

"Kinch was taking Carter to the tunnel, I'm pretty sure," said Gerhardt. "Oh, I hope..."

Wolfgang smothered a yawn. "No sense hoping until we find out what's going on. Better get some sleep now." He added, "Good work, Gerhardt, on leading the guard away from the tunnel. You handled it well."

If dogs could blush, Gerhardt would have turned red. "Thank you, Wolfgang."

Gerhardt trotted over to his doghouse and crawled inside, curling up next to Bruno. Bruno was snoring gently, but Gerhardt thought he would never get to sleep; he was far too excited about what the morning might bring. But soon his eyes closed and he was slumbering too.

* * *

><p>Sergeant Hans Schultz could think of several other ways to spend a December morning than watching his boys repair the Hammelburg road yet again. He looked down at the German shepherd sitting at his feet and envied the dog his thick coat.<p>

Schultz did not usually handle the dogs because he was nervous of them, almost as nervous as the big shot was. But he had been thinking that perhaps he should be presenting a braver front to the guards under his direction, and Gerhardt was the least threatening of the dogs. So today he and the dog were guarding the work detail, along with Kurtz, who was handling one of the fiercer dogs and was about a hundred yards distant down the road.

A nice fur coat would definitely be an advantage today. The biting wind penetrated Schultz's woollen greatcoat, and the POWs he was guarding were much less warmly clad.

But they were cheerful enough, making jokes as they worked, and occasionally they would toss a laughing remark his way. They were very fond of making fun of his size and his fondness for food...especially strudel as the Cockroach made it...but Schultz did not mind. Gretchen and the children often teased him in the same manner, and he felt that in some way the prisoners had made him part of their family.

It was good to feel part of a family, Schultz thought. He smiled as he thought of his own back in Heidelberg, and wondered what they were doing right now. _Die Kinder_ would be in school, and Gretchen would be at the factory. He sighed. A woman should not be doing such work, but what could he do? The Luftwaffe did not pay that well, and after he was forced to turn his toy factory over to the Reich for war-related industry, it was a struggle to feed five children and a wife.

Someday, he thought, someday all this madness would end and his factory and the life he had once known would be restored to him. Absorbed in a roseate vision of the future, he was oblivious for some minutes of a man trying to get his attention. It wasn't until the leash in his hand suddenly pulled taut that he looked up.

Schultz blinked, and focused on a smiling, familiar face. It was one of the American airmen who had posed as Olsen! Of course, many airmen had posed as Olsen and then each had vanished when Olsen returned. But none of them had ever repeated their performance! Besides, this fellow could not pose as Olsen again, for Olsen was right over there, leaning on his shovel and talking instead of working. What monkey business was going on?

"What are you doing here?" he demanded of the young man.

_"Kamerad!"_ the American said happily. "I'm surrendering, see?"

"You do not want to do that," Schultz told him, shaking his head. "You were safely away; why do you return now? I tell you what...I shall turn my back, so, and then you will go into the woods and I shall see nothing!"

"No, I can't do that," said the American. "I gotta surrender, you know. _Kamerad!"_

"Stop saying that!" Schultz scolded. "Do you want the other guard to hear?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I do," said the American. _"__Kamerad!" _He held up both hands for good measure.

Schultz started to shush him, but the dog Gerhardt gave a sharp bark, and down the road the other dog started to drag Private Kurtz in their direction. Schultz heaved a sigh, and accepted the inevitable.

"You are my prisoner," he said to the American, pointing his unloaded rifle at the poor deluded young man.

"Okey-dokey! But remember, you won't get nothin' outta me! Carter, Andrew J., United States Army Air Corps...oh, and I'm a sergeant, by the way..."

* * *

><p>Colonel Klink reflected complacently on how well things were going. There had been that unfortunate occurrence two weeks ago with the spy Wagner, but that had not reflected poorly on Klink at all; in fact Colonel Burkhalter had apologized to him for planting the fellow here in the first place! Spies were such an unpredictable bunch, he thought, shaking his head, but who knew that one would lose control so completely?<p>

And of course there had been a few more fruitless escape attempts, but by conducting random night patrols outside the wire he should soon bring these barbarians in line. In fact...

Klink's musings were interrupted by a knock at his office door. _"Herein!"_ he called, and the door opened, with a wide-eyed Helga sticking her head around the edge of it.

"Oh, _Herr Kommandant,_ Sergeant Schultz is here, and..."

"Never mind, _Fräulein,_ I shall handle this!" Large hands set the secretary gently aside, and the imposing bulk of Sergeant Schultz filled the doorway. He moved into the room like an ocean liner heading out to sea, with a small tugboat in his wake.

The tugboat was a slight, fair young man with round blue eyes. He wore an American bomber jacket and clutched his cap in his hands as he gazed at Klink uncertainly.

Klink glared at his sergeant of the guard. "Schultz! What is this?"

Schultz cleared his throat. "If you please, _Herr Kommandant,_ I have captured this ver-r-ry dangerous American!"

Klink was nonplussed. The idea of Schultz capturing anyone...even one such as this, a young man who bore a strong resemblance to a rabbit...was ludicrous. And yet here he was. "How?"

Schultz swelled with importance. "When I was guarding the work detail this morning, I spied him lurking in the bushes, and I cornered him! I told him, 'You are my prisoner!' and he surrendered."

"Oh. Well, that's very nice, Schultz. I shall make the necessary arrangements to send him along to the transit camp for processing..."

A shocked look swept across Schultz's face. "Oh, but _Herr Kommandant!_ Can he not just stay here?"

"There is a certain procedure that I must follow, you know that! And I..." Klink looked at Schultz's woebegone face, and the prisoner's frightened one, and he was irresistibly reminded of a schoolboy begging to keep a puppy that had followed him home. "Oh, very well! Have Captain Grüber fill out the paperwork, and assign him to Barracks 2. Colonel Hogan can deal with him."

Schultz's _"Danke, Herr Kommandant!"_ was echoed by the prisoner's more muted "Thank you, sir." The two saluted Klink, and he returned the salute absentmindedly. He watched them as they left his office and closed the door, and smiled to himself.

Not a bad day's work for Schultz, Klink thought. Somehow, all on his own, he managed to capture a nice quiet young man who would give them no trouble. Not a bad day's work at all; Luftstalag 13 could use more prisoners like this one.


	25. Two old dogs have their day

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

Behind the scenes of "The Top Secret Top Coat".

* * *

><p>Heidi Schnitzer smoothed her maid's uniform and looked down at the two elderly German shepherds who were patiently sitting on the floor of the farm kitchen. Each of them had a disapproving look in his eye, and Heidi felt bound to make some sort of explanation to her guardians.<p>

"It is only a job, you know!"

Albrecht and Günther slowly shook their heads, and Heidi began to feel a bit defensive. "I know, I know...there's more to it than that. But I must do my part for the Resistance! Just accompanying Onkel Oskar to the stalag so I can distract Schultz for him is not enough. And Kurt has agreed to this, so there is nothing to worry about, I promise!"

Albrecht heaved a sigh, and Günther flopped down on the floor, his head on his paws.

Heidi picked up the neat white cap and the starched apron that completed her outfit. "This is the last time I shall be going to the Baron's, you know. I'm to help at the party this evening while he transfers the secret plans to Colonel Hogan, who will be posing as Kommandant Klink. The Baron's such a dear old man, you know, and so brave. These plans he has prepared will be very important to the Allies. Once he turns them over to Colonel Hogan, all will be well."

She bent to kiss each dog on top of his head. "I must hurry now, or I shall miss the bus." With a swirl of her skirts she was out the door.

Albrecht looked at Günther, who shrugged and said, "We have done our best to train her to be safe, but she still insists on taking these chances. I wish she weren't going to the Baron's."

"She seemed especially nervous today," said Albrecht. "She forgot to let us out."

"_Ach! _Now what do we do?" complained Günther. "I can't stay indoors very long...at my age a dog has to worry about his prostate, you know."

Albrecht went to the window and planted his front paws on the sill, craning his neck to look out over the fields out back of the house. "Not a problem...I can see Kurt coming in from the fields right now...he'll be here in a few minutes."

It was more than a few minutes, though, as Kurt needed to unharness the horses and bed them down before he headed to the house. As he pushed the kitchen door open, Günther slid past him in his haste to get outdoors. Kurt grinned and shook his head, then he turned to Albrecht. "Where's Heidi?"

"She left to catch the bus," replied Albrecht.

Kurt seemed to understand the woof, as he so often did. "Gone already? I wanted to wish her luck at the Baron's tonight."

He went to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, and was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Kurt reached for the receiver, still dripping, and cradled it between his shoulder and ear as he dried his hands with a towel.

"Hallo, Onkel Oskar..._ja,_ she's gone. _What?_ We'll have to try to get to her before that party starts...can you pick me up? _Danke!"_

There was a scratching at the door as soon as he replaced the receiver, and he automatically opened it to let Günther back in. Kurt's normally placid face was drawn and pale, and his voice grim as he addressed the two dogs. "The Gestapo suspects the Baron, and they plan to arrest him tonight!"

"What about Heidi?" Günther looked at Kurt anxiously.

"I knew something like this would happen!" Albrecht fretted. "I wish Wolfgang were here."

"Well, he isn't," said Günther. "But we need to act."

* * *

><p>Within ten minutes the dog truck arrived in the farmyard, with an unwonted squealing of brakes, and Oskar Schnitzer climbed out and hurried toward the house. Kurt met him in the yard and said tensely, "The party is due to start in an hour."<p>

"We'll make it, son. Get in the truck...Max will meet us there." Oskar moved to get back into the truck, and he looked down to see two determined dogs blocking his way. "What is this?"

"I think they want to come too," said Kurt. "They are as worried as I am."

His uncle frowned, and then said, "Why not?" He opened the rear door of the truck and Albrecht and Günther jumped in.

* * *

><p>It was almost dark, and Heidi pulled the curtains across the french doors of Baron von Auchberg's study. The Baron was still talking to his valet Rolf, and she pretended not to listen as she waited for Rolf to leave. The Baron would have some last-minute instructions for her, she was sure. It was so very important that the transfer of the plans go smoothly tonight.<p>

Finally the valet bowed slightly to the Baron, and headed for the door leading to the hallway. He paused for a moment, one hand on the doorknob, but then turned around abruptly to reveal a Luger clenched in his other hand. "You will come with me quietly, Baron. They are very anxious to question you at Gestapo headquarters."

The Baron drew back, his bushy eyebrows snapped together in a frown. "Rolf? What is this?"

The valet's bland expression did not change. "You did not know I work for the Gestapo? How foolish of you. Our eyes and ears are everywhere, you know. And we know that you have made arrangements to turn the plans for Operation Dragonfly over to the Allies...for a price. A quarter of a million dollars, to be exact."

The Baron's voice was even. "I do not know what you are talking about."

Heidi was frozen with shock for a moment, but the next instant found herself filled with rage. The treacherous Rolf had no right to say such things. The Baron was a patriot! He would never sell out his country...but he _was_ doing his utmost to help rid Germany of Hitler. The fact that the Gestapo was vile enough to claim the Baron wanted money for his efforts made her almost forget the danger she and the Baron faced, but she bit her tongue and hid her anger.

Instead, she looked from one man to the other with an innocent and vaguely stupid air. "Shall I see to the preparations in the dining room now?"

Rolf flicked her a glance of contempt. "No, you will not. I am sure the party will proceed quite well without your presence. You and the Baron are coming with me, now. My colleagues will soon be here to take the Baron into custody, but my work in unmasking him must be acknowledged! I plan to take full credit for his arrest."

The Baron lifted one hand in protest. "You will do what you must, of course. But why take the girl? She is only a simple housemaid. What could you possibly want with her?"

"She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, unfortunately. Now, no delaying tactics, Baron." The valet moved toward the french doors and gestured with the Luger. "You will both come with me now."

Heidi noticed a slight billowing of the curtains behind Rolf as he spoke, but she remained carefully expressionless, her hands folded primly at her waist. The Baron remained silent, but a flicker of his eyes let Heidi know that he had noticed the movement of the curtains as well. Someone had opened the french doors from the outside!

Then, in a silent rush, two dark shadows emerged from behind the curtains and lunged for the valet.

Albrecht plowed into the man, striking him right behind the knees, causing them to buckle. At the same time Günther's jaws clamped on the man's wrist, with enough force to make the pistol drop from suddenly nerveless fingers.

Heidi darted forward to pick the gun up from the floor, and she looked up to see Kurt, Max, and Oskar burst through the curtains as well. With a speed born of long practice, Max and Oskar had the struggling Rolf bound and gagged within seconds, while the two dogs stood guard over him. Kurt went to Heidi and carefully removed the firearm from her hands before enfolding her in an embrace.

The Baron watched the proceedings with a slight smile. "Dear me," he said.

Max straightened up, with one last contemptuous look at the neatly trussed valet on the floor. "Baron, we came to warn you, but it looks as though we were a bit too late."

"Yes, too late to warn me, but precisely on time to save me, fortunately. And we must leave immediately, I can see that...but what shall I do about delivering the plans to Colonel Hogan?"

Heidi spoke up. "I'll do it."

Kurt's grip on her tightened, and he looked down at her in consternation. "What do you mean?"

Heidi had never been more frightened than she had been in the last few minutes, and her heart quailed at the thought of encountering any more Gestapo agents, but she said bravely, "The party should proceed as planned, Baron, to cover your escape for as long as possible. I am just an ignorant housemaid, of course, so I'll just say that you are expected at any moment. And when Colonel Hogan arrives, I'll give him the plans."

Max and Oskar exchanged glances, then Max said slowly, "That would be best, of course. But if the Gestapo should question you..."

"It's not likely they will do anything at the party," said the Baron. "Too many high-ranking officers of the Wehrmacht have been invited for the Gestapo to wish to make a disturbance; it's me they are after, and they will keep a low profile while they wait for me to show up. But my dear, you should not try to contact the Colonel directly. When he arrives, take his coat as you would for any of the guests, and hide the plans in the lining when you place the coat in the foyer closet. Then, the first chance you get, slip out while the party is in progress."

"I can do that," Heidi said, albeit in a shaky voice, and Kurt's grip tightened again.

* * *

><p>It was a difficult assignment that Heidi had given herself, but she was determined to carry it out. It was clear the Baron needed to disappear, and Colonel Hogan would be at the party expecting to take possession of the plans for Operation Dragonfly. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and remembered how the two dogs had come valiantly to her rescue.<p>

_If they could do that, I can do this_, she told herself as she greeted each guest with a polite smile that masked her inner anxiety. Many of the guests had arrived and were mingling freely; they were obviously all old acquaintances who appreciated a pleasant evening with good food and wine.

The other servants had wondered about the Baron's absence, but she had shrugged, saying, "No doubt he has been busy all the afternoon in his study and has lost all track of time. And his valet Rolf told me he was not to be disturbed. But I am sure he will make an appearance soon."

But where was Colonel Hogan? She froze as the elderly butler Klaus opened the door to two new arrivals.

The rotund toad-like person could only be General Burkhalter. And the other person was Colonel Klink...the real Colonel Klink!

Heidi's mind raced. Colonel Hogan was to have posed as Klink, and it was very evident that was no longer possible. Now what should she do? The plans rustled slightly where they were hidden under her apron, and she knew she dare not hold onto them. How could she possibly get the plans to Colonel Hogan now?

Even as these thoughts went through her head, she walked up to Colonel Klink with a smile, and said, "_Guten Abend, Herr Oberst._ May I take your coat?"

* * *

><p>Much later, in the farmhouse kitchen, the Schnitzers and Max gathered around the scrubbed kitchen table to restore their jangled nerves with a little schnapps.<p>

Maria fussed over Heidi. "Weren't you frightened?"

"A little," Heidi confessed. "But I knew what I had to do. I was supposed to be at the party helping out, anyway, and no one paid any attention to me. People don't tend to notice maids, you know."

"So you gave the plans to Colonel Hogan?"

"Not exactly. He was supposed to be there, disguised as Colonel Klink, and I was told to hide the plans in the lining of his coat. But he wasn't there - Colonel Klink was there, himself!"

"What did you do?" asked Maria.

"I decided the best thing to do was to get the plans out of the house, and to the Luftstalag...and so I hid them in the coat of the real Colonel Klink."

Max chuckled. "Very quick thinking on Heidi's part. I radioed Colonel Hogan to let him know where the plans are; he can take it from there. I have no doubt he'll have his hands on the plans in no time."

Maria shook her head. "All this business with the poor Baron having a Gestapo agent secretly working as his valet! And this man was going to arrest the Baron, and you too, Heidi!"

Heidi smiled at the two dogs who sat raptly watching the humans at the table. "Albrecht and Günther weren't going to let that happen. I never knew they could move so fast!"

Emil, who had just returned from taking several Allied airmen to a rendezvous with the sub, was still a little disgruntled over missing all the excitement. But at this he brightened, and said smugly, "One should never be surprised at what an old dog can do. Why, look at me! Eighty years old last month, and I'm as active in the Resistance as anyone. I've done things I'd never dreamed of."

Max smiled. "We all have, my friend."

On the hearthrug, Albrecht chuckled and shook his head. "We should be used to it; being underestimated by humans, I mean. They probably think we just lie around in the sun all day."

"Well, we do that quite a bit," Günther admitted. He scratched his ear thoughtfully and added, "Wolfgang would be proud of us, I think. Except...he always told us not to bite anyone. And I bit that Gestapo human as hard as I could. I was _glad_ to do it!"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Albrecht reassured him. "You were protecting Heidi, and the Baron too."

_"Ja_, that is true." Günther smothered a yawn. "Do you think it will be difficult to return to our usual routine?"

"Maybe." Albrecht didn't even try to smother his own yawn.

Günther stretched out on the hearthrug, closing his eyes and giving a sigh of satisfaction. "I think I shall be very happy tomorrow to be just lying in the sun."


	26. Getting Schultz to Heidelberg

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of_ _love._

Behind the scenes of "Killer Klink". A few lines of dialogue from the episode are included.

* * *

><p>Emil Schnitzer pulled on his heavy overcoat and picked up a pair of gauntlets. The thick leather gloves were certainly not necessary when dealing with Oskar's dogs, but they helped to foster an illusion of dangerous dog-handling, and Oskar was in the habit of wearing them whenever he visited the Luftstalag. Emil dropped the gauntlets on the front seat of the truck and went to the rear of the vehicle to check the bag of veterinary supplies.<p>

All was in order, and Emil glanced back at the cottage. The spring morning was bright, but there was a brisk wind blowing today, and Maria had fussed as women do. She hadn't wanted Emil to go to the stalag today, just because he'd had bronchitis last week! But Emil had put his foot down; he felt as fit as ever, and he was eager to see what was going on at Luftstalag 13.

When Oskar emerged from the cottage, he, too, looked askance at Emil. He muttered something about a stubborn old fool, but Emil wisely pretended not to hear as he walked over to the exercise yard.

None of the dogs in the grassy area were exercising, as it happened; one and all they were snoozing in the sun. But at the sound of Emil's whistle, two of them jumped to their feet and trotted over to the gate.

Emil had to wonder just how Dieter and Gerda knew that it was their turn to go to the stalag, but it was always the same: somehow the dogs knew. He opened the gate and watched as the two dogs raced to the truck.

...

As the truck bounced along the rough road leading to the stalag, the two men discussed the current war situation. Not that they could possibly know what was _really_ going on in the spring of 1944: naturally they were not privy to the Allied strategy, and the state-run broadcasting service provided only propaganda from the Nazi point of view.

But even though Oskar and Emil and their friends with the Resistance had not been told in so many words, they expected an invasion soon. Their orders from Mama Bear lately had concentrated on sabotage of key rail lines that would be used by the Wehrmacht if reinforcements were needed in France. Their activities were closely coordinated with other underground units in the area, and despite the danger, the members of the Resistance knew how essential their contribution was to the Allied war effort, and they were determined to continue their work. The all-important goal was to remove Hitler from power, and everything they did to help assure the success of the coming invasion was a step toward that goal.

But Oskar and Emil would soon be assigned a task unlike any they had been given before...

* * *

><p>At the camp, Emil and Oskar were waved through the gates, and the truck pulled up beside the dog pen. Emil went to the back of the truck and allowed Gerda and Dieter to jump out. He snapped sturdy leashes to their collars and guided them into the pen.<p>

"Hallo, Dieter, Gerda!" said Wolfgang. "How are things at home?"

"Busy," sighed Gerda. "A group of foreign workers has been assigned to the farm, and Kurt says he's very glad of the help, as the spring planting and the lambing are still in progress. And the district leader was very happy to assign the workers, as he has made a deal with the Gauleiter for a share of the harvest. There's been a bit of confusion, of course, so Dieter and I spent most of our time at the farm, to help keep an eye on things."

"News from the Twilight Barking, too," said Dieter. "Word from France is that they expect the Allied humans to invade at any time...the Resistance there is very busy, destroying bridges and rail lines. Just like the Doctor and Max and their friends."

"And Colonel Hogan and his men," Wolfgang said thoughtfully. He allowed the elder Doctor to examine him, and then watched as Emil went around all the dogs, examining them for signs of illness and injury. Outside the pen, the younger Doctor was deep in conversation with Colonel Hogan.

"Schnitzer, as long as you're changing the dogs, will you get rid of the black one?" said Colonel Hogan. "He's beginning to obey the guards."

"I am sorry, Colonel," said the Doctor. "I'll take care of that."

Inside the pen, Bismarck flattened his ears, affronted. "Well, I must say that was quite uncalled for," he grumbled. "I was only helping Langenscheidt to look competent in front of the Kommandant!"

"You were going to go on leave anyway," Wolfgang reminded him. "Colonel Hogan will forget all about it by the time you come back."

Emil bent to attach a leash to Bismarck's collar. "Do not worry, Bismarck," he said in a low voice. "We shall bring you back in a week or so, when things have settled down, _ja?"_

"See?" said Wolfgang. "Opa Schnitzer's right. You'll be back soon."

Outside the pen, Colonel Hogan smiled as he watched Emil complete his examination of the dogs. "I see you've got your father working with you, huh?"

"Oh yes," said the Doctor. "He's eighty years old, and I don't want him to work, but he's just amazing! His back pains, his chest hurts, he's a mess! But he wants to help." He nodded goodbye to the Colonel and then went inside the dog pen and closed the gate.

The elder Schnitzer regarded his son grimly. "A mess, am I?"

* * *

><p>Five days later, Emil and Oskar were back at the camp with Bismarck, but the dog remained in the truck, just in case Colonel Hogan had not yet forgotten about Bismarck's <em>faux paw<em> with Langenscheidt. However, the Colonel had a more serious matter on his mind, and the two Schnitzers as well as all the dogs listened intently as he asked for a favor.

"It's Schultz. The Kommandant is working him overtime, and won't let him have leave to go home to Heidelberg. And we _really_ need him to go to Heidelberg."

"Heidelberg?" asked Oskar. "Perhaps I could help..."

"Thanks, Schnitzer, but I think we'd better not involve you with a trip to Heidelberg. It's not a place you normally visit in the course of your work, is it?"

"Well, no," said Oskar.

"And that truck of yours is pretty well known. But you could help us in another way," said Hogan. "It'll only take an hour or so of your father's time."

"Of course!" said Emil, his eyes shining with eagerness. "What do you want me to do?"

"We'd like you to take Schultz's place for a physical examination. If the doctors think Schultz is in the condition of a man of _your_ age, Klink will be forced to allow him some time off, don't you think?"

"A man of my age?" Emil bristled slightly. "I'll have you know that a man of my age is just as..."

"Now, now, Father," Oskar said. "You could exaggerate things a bit for the doctors, couldn't you?"

Emil considered this. _"Ja, ja,_ I suppose I could."

Colonel Hogan grinned. "Good man! The fellas will fix you up with a uniform while I arrange things with Klink."

A few minutes later Hogan emerged from the Kommandantur with a wide grin on his face, and he hurried over to the dog truck where the Schnitzers were waiting and Kinch, Newkirk, and LeBeau were putting the final touches on Emil's uniform.

Newkirk handed Emil a small book. "It's a copy of Schultz's _Soldbuch..._all of the inside information on our Schultzie, mate. Everything you need to know, and the identification you'll need to show the doctors, too."

Hogan nodded approval and turned to Oskar. "Okay, Schnitzer, you know what you're supposed to do. Take him to the 13th Army Hospital...he's supposed to be Sergeant Schultz, he's there for a physical check-up. Get going, and good luck!"

* * *

><p>Oskar slowed the truck as they approached the 13th Army Hospital. "I'm not so sure about this. We all know that Colonel Hogan's plans tend to be over-elaborate, not to mention bizarre. You may be wearing a Luftwaffe uniform, Father, but you don't look much like a prison guard."<p>

"What do I look like, then?"

"An eighty year old man _masquerading_ as a prison guard."

Bismarck, who was seated between the two men, woofed agreement.

Emil sighed. There was no way he could look official, unless...

"I'll take Bismarck with me!"

Oskar and Bismarck both turned to look at him, then they looked at each other. Oskar rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Bismarck sighed.

Oskar said, "I suppose that might make you a little more believable; at least I am sure it will get you past the entrance guards."

And so it proved. The soldiers standing guard at the hospital entrance paid more attention to the handsome _Schäferhund _than they did to the elderly man on the other end of the leash, and Emil was directed to a small room at the end of a long corridor.

* * *

><p>The door of the examination room opened abruptly, and a middle-aged man in <em>Heer<em> uniform strode in. He was carrying a clipboard and he consulted it before he looked up. "I am Doctor Pfeffer, and you are Sergeant Schultz? From Luftstalag 13?"

_"Ja, ja, _I am." Emil was sitting on the edge of the examining table, clad only in his underwear. The doctor's eyes widened as he took in Emil's appearance, and Emil stared back at him, unblinking. _You should look so good when you get to be my age, young fellow!_

Pfeffer looked down at his clipboard again and frowned. He pulled out a stethoscope and listened to Emil's chest, shaking his head as he did so, and Emil hid a grin. He knew he had a pretty impressive heart murmur, and no doubt there were a few wheezes there too, left from his recent bout of bronchitis. Then the doctor palpated his abdomen and checked his reflexes, all the while muttering to himself. He straightened up, gave Emil a forced smile, and excused himself, closing the door of the examination room behind him.

Emil looked down at the dog who had been watching the proceedings solemnly. "What do you think, Bismarck?"

Bismarck didn't have anything to say to this, but he cocked his head as a quiet conversation in the hallway outside reached his ears.

"Listen, Otto, this man is in terrible shape! Irregular heartbeat with a systolic murmur, rhonchi in all lung fields, atrophy of the skeletal muscles, poor skin turgor, kyphosis, the beginnings of cataracts...he has all the appearance of a man almost twice his age! Would you mind taking a look at him?"

"Of course, Ernst." The door of the examination room opened a bit, and Bismarck could see an inquisitive human face peer in...but only briefly; the door was shut again almost immediately, and the voices in the hallway resumed.

"He looks like a feeble old man...but he can't possibly be, the Wehrmacht would never use old men to swell its ranks! The very idea is absurd."

"_Ja, _that is what I thought. And his identification papers state that he is only forty-eight. I have come to the conclusion that Sergeant Schultz must be suffering from a rare and deadly disease: Rapid Aging Syndrome!"

"Rapid Aging Syndrome? What on earth is that?"

"I read about it in last month's _Zeitschrift der Medizin Wikipädie."_

A derisive snort was audible. "A most unreliable reference! You might as well quote from _Medizin für Dummköpfe._"

"Nevertheless, this man exhibits most of the typical signs of aging in an eighty year old...and he's only forty-eight!"

"Amazing. I shall go in and see him now."

The door opened again and a short, chubby man wearing a white lab coat came in, followed by Pfeffer. The new arrival gave Emil a kindly smile. "Hallo, I'm Doctor Seuss." He glanced at Bismarck and added, "And I see you have brought a friend."

"I am a dog-handler at the stalag," Emil said gruffly. "Where I go, the dog goes."

"I see." Seuss gave Emil a brief examination, then exchanged glances with Pfeffer. After a moment Seuss sighed and said, "We shall need to consult with the Chief Surgeon, Doctor Pohlmann, before we submit our report."

The two men went out into the hallway again, and Bismarck listened to the subsequent conversation.

"Ernst, you are quite right! The poor man looks as though he has one foot in the grave. No wonder he keeps the dog with him; no doubt he requires guidance from time to time."

"A faithful animal, too; he never took his eyes off you during your examination. A noble _Hund!"_

"Yes, indeed. But this state of affairs cannot continue; we must make sure Sergeant Schultz gets the proper rest he needs. The Wehrmacht does not make use of those who are medically unfit to serve, and in every physical respect the Sergeant is an old man. An old, old man."

The voices faded as the two men apparently went off down the hall, and Bismarck looked at Emil, who had a smug look on his wizened face. He was obviously enjoying himself enormously, and Bismarck shook his head. Didn't he realize the risks he was taking by impersonating a member of the Luftwaffe?

Presently footsteps approached, and once more the door opened, this time revealing Doctors Pfeffer and Seuss and a third man, who announced: "I am Doctor Pohlmann, the Chief Surgeon of the 13th Army Hospital, and my staff has requested that I consult on your case."

His examination was more lengthy than the others, and when he concluded, he took Emil's hand in his, and said kindly, "You will be allowed to return to Luftstalag 13 now, but I want you to take it easy, _ja?_ I shall meet with your Kommandant and make a full report, and you will have nothing to worry about. I shall make certain of it."

_"Danke, Herr Doktor."_

As soon as the three physicians left the room, Emil hopped down from the table and quickly dressed in his borrowed Luftwaffe uniform. He opened the door cautiously, looked both ways, and said, "Let's go, Bismarck."

Emil shuffled off down the hallway, leaning against Bismarck, who kept close to his side. As they made their way to the front entrance, Bismarck noticed the three doctors standing at the end of the corridor, and he could hear their parting words.

"Ah, there he goes now."

"A most interesting case, indeed. But tragic."

"It is very sad. At the rate he is deteriorating, Sergeant Schultz is not long for this world. But at least his final days will be made easier...after I pay a visit to Kommandant Klink."

* * *

><p>Two days later, the Doctor made a routine trip to Luftstalag 13, bringing Franz and Bismarck along with him. This time Bismarck was allowed to stay, and sure enough, the Colonel never even noticed that "the black one" had returned.<p>

After the Doctor departed, the dogs all gathered around to hear the latest from home.

"So how did Opa Schnitzer's impersonation of Schultz go?" asked Wolfgang. "I assume it was successful, since Sergeant Schultz left for his leave the same day."

"It went very well," replied Bismarck. "Although I must admit I was quite nervous during the entire proceedings. But all of the doctor humans were so taken up with the idea that they had a medical phenomenon on their hands, I don't believe it occurred to any of them that there was a simple solution to their quandary."

"That the human in front of them was only impersonating Sergeant Schultz, and was actually just as old as he appeared." Wolfgang shook his head. "Trust humans to be oblivious to something under their own noses. But it was good for Colonel Hogan, since Schultz got his leave, and was able to deliver the potted plant that held the hidden radio parts."

"The whole thing seems so odd to me," remarked Frieda. "Why on earth did Colonel Hogan choose such a roundabout way of delivering the radio parts to Heidelberg anyway? Even if he didn't want the Doctor delivering the parts, couldn't he have assigned the task to someone else, like Max, or Felix, or Konrad? That's what I would have done!"

Wolfgang shrugged philosophically. "So would I. We would have chosen a more direct method, because the tendency to engage in over-elaborate planning is not a canine trait. Unfortunately, Colonel Hogan is only a human. He has many admirable qualities, but..." Wolfgang sighed. "I'm afraid he'll never be able to think like a dog."


	27. Christmas Eve

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>December 24, 1944<p>

Christmas Eve...what a time to get a radio communication from London, especially after the bad news they had received a week ago. Hogan looked at the message Baker had just handed him and frowned. He held it up closer to the flickering oil lamp, and began to read it aloud.

"Sabotaging of bridges to cease repeat do not sabotage bridges. Incorporate any escapers or evaders you encounter into present prison population. Intelligence gathering only authorized activity at this time otherwise dig in for the duration. Relay message to underground contacts."

His men looked at each other, shaking their heads in disbelief.

"So we keep any new guys we come across," Baker mused. "Guess we can't say 'no room at the inn', huh?"

"How long is the bloody duration going to be, Colonel?" Newkirk asked. "What with the Jerries springing that offensive, and all..."

"And what do they mean about no more sabotaging of bridges?" Carter wanted to know. "I still got that batch of explosives from the last parachute drop!"

Hogan handed the slip of paper back to Baker. "It can mean only one thing. Despite the current setback, our tanks will be rolling into Germany soon and they'll want the bridges intact. Face it, fellas, our days at Uncle Wilhelm's boarding house are numbered. We just need to hang on."

"It won't be a minute too soon for me," Kinch growled, and Olsen grinned.

"Ah, to be back in jolly old London town." Newkirk closed his eyes, as though savoring the vision.

"_Mais, mon Colonel_...what will happen to the dogs?" LeBeau's face was troubled. "They have helped us as much as any members of the Resistance."

Hogan's jaw set and his eyes were narrowed with determination. "I'll tell Schnitzer to dig in as well. And after the war's over, I'll use all the leverage I can to make sure our Resistance friends are safe...including the dogs."

"You know, the real Rin Tin Tin got to go home with an American soldier after the first war," offered Carter. "Do you think we'd be allowed to adopt them?"

"Why not?" said Hogan. He looked around at the suddenly grinning faces. "Remember, it's Christmas Eve...you gotta have a little faith."

* * *

><p>Oskar signed off on the radio and got to his feet. The Schnitzers were all gathered at the kitchen table to celebrate the Holy Evening, with the loaf of <em>Stollen <em>ready to be sliced. His family looked at him with anxious expressions as he took his place at the table, and he smiled wryly. "I know Hitler has been trumpeting how the Ardennes offensive will mean certain victory for him, but he's wrong. The western Allies will be crossing into Germany soon: so, no more sabotaging of bridges. Colonel Hogan says we are to dig in."

Kurt whistled. "I think perhaps we shall have to cancel our trip to Remagen, then."

Maria cut into the fragrant loaf while Heidi poured out cups of ersatz coffee. "We shall have to concentrate on getting through the winter," she said. "It is good that the weather stayed clear for the harvest."

Emil accepted a slice of the rich sweet bread and scraped a very thin film of butter on it. "_Ja, _we must give thanks for that. Kurt, you and Heidi and your workers have done well in producing as much food as you have this past summer...especially all the food that the district leader doesn't know about. It's up to us to use it wisely."

Oskar nodded. "Maria has it all rationed out between ourselves, our neighbors, the dogs, the prisoners and your workers. It will be tight, but we shall hang on." He smiled at Maria, who was blushing with pleasure at the murmurs of approval from everyone at the table.

She added, "And tonight's celebration was carefully planned for. I even sent cookies to the Luftstalag."

Oskar shook his head and chuckled. "And I was the lucky fellow who had to smuggle them in!"

The Schnitzers all chuckled too, then Heidi asked, "Do you think the war will be over by next _Heiligabend, _Onkel Oskar?"

Oskar patted her hand reassuringly. "I believe it will be...we must have hope, _ja?"_

* * *

><p>In the dog pen, Wolfgang looked up into the sky, far above the dim lights of the compound. The moon was nearing the full phase, and the stars were twinkling against the darkness. He took a deep breath of the frosty air and sighed.<p>

One by one the other dogs emerged from the doghouses and sat nearby, all of them gazing up at the sky as well.

Finally, Frieda remarked, "You look very serious, Wolfgang."

He glanced at her with a rueful smile. "It's been a long road, hasn't it? But I believe the end is in sight; we just need to hang on."

Bismarck stirred. "I'm almost afraid to think about the future."

"We can dream, can't we?" Frieda said. "Dream about a time of peace among humans..."

"When the Schnitzers can go about their daily business without fear of the Gestapo," added Wolfgang.

"And our flock can return to their own homes," said Hans. "To places like America, and Australia, and England..."

"I wonder what Muncie is like," said Gerhardt. "Maybe it's a bit like Hammelburg."

Sieglinde nodded. "I wonder about the place where Olsen lives...I think it's called Minnesota."

Wolfgang shook his head and was about to speak, but Sieglinde forestalled him by repeating her mother's words. "We can dream, can't we?"

"_Ja, _we can dream," Wolfgang said with a sigh, remembering a dream of his own.

"And hope," added Frieda softly.

"What would you like to do after the war, Bismarck?" asked Hans.

Bismarck scratched his ear as he pondered this. "Opa Schnitzer needs a good dog to look after him, and I would like to be that dog; I think the Baroness would approve. How about you, Hans?"

Hans considered the question with his customary air of solemn reflection. "The Doctor often talks of the days when he trained dogs to become guides for the blind. I think I could do that...there's probably a lot of humans out there who need that kind of help."

Frieda gave him a smile of maternal pride. "Me, I'd like to spend my time at the farm, looking after things for Kurt and Heidi."

Fritzi said wistfully, "LeBeau talks of opening a restaurant in Paris after the war. Do you think he might need a good watchdog...one who can do tricks?"

"Why not?" said Frieda. "I imagine his customers would appreciate the entertainment. And you, Wolfgang...what would you like to be doing after the war?"

"I...don't know," said Wolfgang. "This camp has been my life for so long..."

Bismarck nodded, understanding what was going through his friend's mind. "You made it your mission to keep this flock safe, without thought for the future."

Wolfgang smiled a little and shrugged. "Each of these young humans makes me think of Tommy; he would be about the age of the youngest of them by now. How could I _not_ want to protect them? But we've all worked toward that goal, haven't we?"

_"Ja,"_ said Frieda. "We've kept them safe. I think we can be proud about that, no matter what the future brings."

The other dogs murmured agreement, but Bruno, who had been listening quietly, lifted his head and sniffed the air. "Oh, no..."

Wolfgang got to his feet, concerned. "What is it?"

"I think there's a prisoner on the loose inside the compound...and they're supposed to be confined to barracks after roll call."

"We spoke too soon about keeping them safe, didn't we?" said Wolfgang grimly. "I'll have to investigate."

Bruno got to his feet too, and looked at his leader appealingly. "Let me do it."

Wolfgang regarded him for a long moment, then nodded. "Fritzi, open the gate."

_"Jawohl_, Wolfgang." Fritzi trotted over to the gate and released the latch.

Bruno slipped through the open gate and paused to look back at the other dogs. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Wolfgang said, "Good luck, son."

* * *

><p>In Barracks 5 after evening roll call, a young airman sat on his bunk, oblivious to his surroundings.<p>

Jeff Duncan was in despair. The war news was bad, he hadn't received any letters from home in weeks, and today was his twenty-first birthday...it was all just too much to take. While everyone else in his barracks was having a quiet Christmas Eve celebration, he slipped out the barracks door, unnoticed.

The compound was empty of guards at the moment, and judging by the immobility of the searchlights in the watchtowers, Jeff figured that the guards up there had nodded off. He crept around the edge of the barracks in the shadows, seeking that one section of fence that had always fascinated him. It would be so easy to go through it, and get out of this place once and for all...

But not tonight. One of the guard dogs was standing there staring at him, and Jeff froze in fear.

* * *

><p>Bruno said quietly to the prisoner, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help."<p>

The young human looked puzzled now instead of afraid, and Bruno stepped closer. "Didn't you know? On Christmas Eve, animals are given the ability to speak. Or, to be more precise, some humans are given the ability to understand. Can't you tell me what's wrong?"

"I...I don't know if I can..."

Bruno sighed and walked over to the POW, close enough to nudge his hand. "I know it's been scary for you lately. But things will get better, I promise."

The POW hesitantly stroked Bruno's fur. "I'm not trying to cause trouble, honest. But when old Klink started talking today about how the Krauts have turned everything around, and how the war is lost for the Allies...I just couldn't take the thought of sticking around here anymore. I had to get out!"

"But you must hang on, you know."

"Why?"

The bleak question wrung Bruno's heart, and he said slowly, "Heidi used to read to us from a book. There was one part that she liked very much: 'And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.' "

"What do you mean?"

Bruno took a deep breath. "You must have faith that the forces of good will eventually succeed. And you must have hope that the world will be a better place when the war is over."

"And love? What could you know about love?"

"I'm a dog. Giving love is what we do." Bruno paused, looking up at him. "Maybe...maybe you had a dog once. A dog like me."

The POW snuffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I did...old Rex. He died when I was twelve...it hurt so bad. I thought I was never going to be happy again."

"But you were happy eventually, weren't you?"

"Yeah...after awhile."

"Because you never forgot how much you loved him, and how much he loved you."

"Yeah..."

"Isn't that worth staying safe for? So you can go home to the people you love, and who love you?"

"Yeah...Mom and Dad and the kids will be expecting me, I guess."

Bruno took hold of the prisoner's sleeve in his teeth and tugged gently. "Let's go back to the barracks now."

"Okay." The human allowed himself to be drawn into the shadows and the two edged along the building until the door was reached.

Bruno watched as the POW slipped inside. "Good luck," he whispered.

* * *

><p>Jeff managed to enter the barracks without attracting attention. Sergeant Riley was singing a wistful version of "I'll be home for Christmas" and all of the guys were humming along as Jeff fumbled his way to his bunk and sank down on it.<p>

Somebody handed him a cookie and he looked up. "Thanks."

He bit into the cookie; gosh, he hadn't tasted anything this good in a long time. Maybe things weren't so bad...maybe he could make it after all. And maybe he could stay busy by helping Sergeant Wilson in the infirmary or something. What had possessed him to go outside tonight, anyway? And that dog...

But it was strange...he really couldn't remember much about his encounter with the dog. Except that the dog hadn't been scary...sort of reminded him of old Rex, in a way. It would be nice to have a dog like that once he got back to the States. And someday soon, Jeff would be going home; he just knew it. All he had to do was hang on.


	28. A new beginning

_A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love._

* * *

><p>August 1945<p>

Private Adam Markiewicz glanced at his silent passenger as they bounced along the back roads of the Bad Kissingen countryside. Traveling in a jeep was not conducive to conversation, but Private Thomas Meyer had seemed disinclined to talk even when they stopped for rest breaks.

Adam didn't know much about his companion; his orders had been to deliver the young private, in one piece, to headquarters near Hammelburg. And why one American private was so important to the head honchos was beyond Adam's understanding.

But before they reached Hammelburg, Adam had another, much higher-ranking passenger to pick up.

"Check the map, will you, Tom," he said over the sound of the engine. "That vet's place should be around here somewhere."

Tom unfolded the map and peered at it. "Few more miles yet."

Another mile passed without conversation, and Adam couldn't restrain his curiosity any longer. "So why're you headed to Hammelburg?"

Tom shrugged, but said with a touch of defensiveness, "They need an interpreter, and I speak German. My family is German."

Adam nodded. His own fluency in Polish had been helpful when trying to communicate with the many displaced persons he had encountered since Germany had surrendered. "I know what you mean. My folks came to the States just after the first war."

Tom's voice was muffled and Adam had to listen closely to catch it. "We escaped Germany in '39."

Adam gave a low whistle and shook his head. "My God! Must have been an awful experience."

Tom nodded. "It was. The Gestapo took us from our home in Kassel...not so very far from here."

Adam gasped, turning his head briefly to look at his passenger. "How did you get away?"

Tom shrugged. "I'm still not sure. I was just a kid, you know, and scared out of my mind. My mom and dad and I were taken to Gestapo headquarters in Hannover, and this terribly mean-looking guy—Hochstetter, I think his name was—well, he took charge of us, all by himself, and drove us to someplace in the woods. Then he untied us and told us to get lost! Some Resistance members were nearby and smuggled us to Denmark. We went to England and then America."

Adam stole another glance at Tom's set face. "Pretty lucky, all around."

His passenger gave a choked laugh and turned his head away. "Yeah. Except for what I had to leave behind."

Adam was going to ask more questions, but he had to slow down to check the small, neatly lettered sign at the entrance to a narrow lane.

_Oskar Schnitzer, Tierarzt_

"Is this it?"

Tom looked at the sign too. "Yes; '_Tierarzt_' means veterinarian, or more literally, animal doctor."

"Okay." Adam swung the wheel over and the jeep turned into the leafy lane.

* * *

><p>Colonel Robert Hogan smiled at the middle-aged couple as they stepped out of the cottage into the warm sunshine.<p>

"Thanks for lunch, Maria, and thanks, of course, to both of you for all you have done. You'll never know how many lives you saved, you and your dogs."

"We did what we could," replied Oskar. "But how glad we are that it is all over."

Hogan looked troubled. "But things are not going well in Germany—all the refugees, the hunger, the confusion..."

"_Ja. _It will be a long, long time before we find our feet," Oskar sighed, and then squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "But we shall work hard to make Germany a great country once more...and this time, a power for good in the world."

Hogan nodded. "It will happen in time, I know."

"Max has been able to reopen his shop, and fortunately Kurt's farm was spared," said Oskar. "He and Heidi are determined that they will be able to feed their neighbors, at least." He gave a short, unamused laugh, and shook his head. "As it is, agriculture is perhaps the only industry that the Occupation authorities will allow."

"You know I will not forget you," said Hogan. "America needs to help rebuild Germany, and I'll go back with plenty of information on the urgency of the situation. I'll take it to General Marshall himself if I have to." He paused. "In the meantime, I will make sure you and your family are taken care of, and the dogs too."

"Thank you, Colonel," said Maria. "We have had so many requests from your men, and even from the liberating soldiers, to adopt the dogs; I know they will all have good homes eventually."

Hogan nodded. "I've already promised to pull all the strings I can to make that happen. I've had a young man pestering me about Bruno, Carter and LeBeau are hoping to adopt Gerhardt and Fritzi, and I know Olsen is anxious to take Sieglinde home with him."

"And the ones who stay in Germany will have a home with us, until we are able to place them as guide dogs for the blind," said Oskar.

"Not all of them, I suspect," Hogan smiled, as he looked down at the big dog seated at Maria's feet.

Maria chuckled. "True. Kurt and Heidi want to keep Frieda and Hildegard at the farm, and my father-in-law and Bismarck are inseparable. Wolfgang, of course, will be staying with us."

The noise of an engine caught their attention, and they all turned to watch as an American jeep rumbled up the lane.

"Looks like my ride is here," said Hogan. "Thanks again. I will keep in touch." He crouched down to address Wolfgang, meeting the sad brown eyes directly. "Thanks, fella; I owe you more than I can say, and only you and I know just how much. You deserve a good long furlough."

Wolfgang offered him a paw, and they shook hands gravely.

Oskar and Maria watched, smiling, as Hogan stood at attention and saluted Wolfgang, who dipped his head modestly.

But a moment later Oskar blinked in surprise. Wolfgang was slowly rising to his feet, ears alert, eyes now fixed on the Americans who were dismounting from the jeep.

And then, with a flash of tawny fur, he was off like a bullet.

_Tommy! Tommy! Tommy!_

The younger of the two Americans stood frozen as the charging dog approached. The elder went for his sidearm, but Maria cried out, "No, don't shoot him! Wolfgang, stop!"

Oskar said, "Don't worry, Maria, Wolfgang would never..." and then they all watched in amazement as the dog knocked the young man to the ground.

Unhurt, the soldier promptly sat up, and said in choked tones, _"Erich?" _

He flung his arms around Wolfgang and wept unrestrainedly as the dog frantically licked his face, whimpering all the while. And to the stunned onlookers, despite the tears and the whimpers, there was one overwhelming emotion evident. One which had been sadly lacking in Germany for many years.

Joy.

Oskar and Maria looked at each other, and then at the understandably bewildered Hogan, who muttered, "What the _hell?"_

The second young man holstered his pistol and approached the little group standing outside the house. He came to attention and saluted. "Colonel Hogan? Begging your pardon, sir, I think I know what's going on. Tom was just telling me about how he and his family escaped Germany in '39. He was about to tell me about something he had to leave behind...do you think it's possible that..."

Oskar could barely speak for the lump in his throat. "Wolfgang was discovered abandoned in a home after a family had been taken away by the Gestapo. In 1939."

Maria's hand crept into his, and her voice trembled as she said, "The ways of God are mysterious indeed, Oskar."

"Maria, I would have to agree." Hogan took a deep breath. "And if you and Oskar approve, I could probably pull a few strings for these two as well."

Oskar nodded, his heart too full to speak. He and Maria loved Wolfgang; how could they not? And Wolfgang loved them. But his home was with his boy, and Oskar would take comfort from that.

"You are right, Colonel. I think Wolfgang has found his home at last."


End file.
